


And you had wings.

by AuthorInDistress



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: And we all know how quickly love occurs in them :D, Canon-Typical Violence, Faerie!AU, I just love 'I love yous', Jotun!Loki, Laufey is a woman by the way, M/M, The way they fall in love is due to me writing this as a fairytale, They're not glittery and lovely and sweet though, Very fairytale like with how they fall in love., Yep everyone's a faerie :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorInDistress/pseuds/AuthorInDistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught in the middle of Wars, Loki discovers Obadiah Stane's plan of taking over the three kingdoms - Midgard, Asgard and Jotenheimr - and both he and Prince Anthony Stark are shoved together when events cause them to ally immediately and to try to stop Stane and save Tony's kingdom and his Mother from doom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And you had wings.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, just to clarify: I wrote this as though it's a fairytale, so if you get what that means, you'll understand why I'm telling you this if you read on :)
> 
>  
> 
> Art by Lynn can be found here: http://lynnwillow.tumblr.com/post/61692292214/some-of-my-art-for-frostironistheperfectotps
> 
> And here: http://llombard17.deviantart.com/gallery/45914938

>.

It starts as a spark. Small, insignificant. Nothing more than a ball of light, balancing in the air. But then. When manipulated by both nimble fingers and simple thoughts - made to twist and bend until it grows - it can become almost anything.

Loki sits with his back cold against the stone of his chair, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he focuses on molding the ice with his magic. As one of his only true skills he knows, and has told himself constantly, that he needs to perfect it almost every day; preferably before his mother discovers his prolonged absence from the mandatory sparring lessons that he has, to practice something that she doesn't exactly approve of. 

The spark that he's only just managed to create, flares when his concentration fluctuates at the thought of his mother, and he grits his teeth, clenching his hands until it finally dissipates over the ice. Nothing much happens besides a small rise in the structure, but it's not exactly the body of movement that he'd envisioned to move instead, and though he'd actually expected something like that on his third try, it still disappoints him.

He sighs, leaning back and running a hand through his hair, waving another over the ice until it melts back into water. 

Tiredness always seems to overcome him whenever he exercises his magic for far too much and for too long, but with the Wars going on still, what else can he do to be useful toward his people and to his soldiers, than to just learn more spells and more strategic illusions to fight back? 

And so, again. He begins to build up his magic, molding it through by carefully placing the correct thoughts in his mind and hoping that, this time, it'll finally work and actually do what he wants it to; if only to have something to show at least, if his mother does eventually discover that he's here in his temple and not learning to slice a sword through a faerie-sized stick as he should be right now. 

The doors to his chambers slide open before he's a chance to even do anything at all, however, and he sighs again, bitterly now, when he realizes just who it is disturbing him this time: "Will you _ever_ learn to knock?" 

The doors slide shut again and, though Býleistr doesn't exactly look sheepish at breaking that particular rule, the slightly pinkish tinge on his blue neck betrays his embarrassment, "Sorry," He mumbles, entering the room without invitation anyway, which again, breaks another rule and completely ignores the point of knocking in the first place as well, "Mother's - I ... I was told to come collect you." 

"'Collect' me?" Loki asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement and smiling at the face that Býleistr makes at him for it. 

"Yes. Now, will you please just come along? I've wasted enough time trying to _find_ you in your precious temple." Loki doesn't quite roll his eyes but the need to definitely arises and he frowns instead, leaning forward to stand up slowly, closing the book that he refers to with a snap and clicking the lock in place - lifting it under his arm to carry, "You won't actually be needing that, brother." Loki pauses, giving him a look that clearly implies how stupid he thinks he is, "Don't look at me like that, you know when I'm lying, so know now that I'm not and come _on_." 

Loki scoffs, "And what, then, would mother want, if not my knowledge on my - " 

"It's not _mother_ who calls." Býleistr says impatiently, his wings perking up now as he bounces on the balls of his feet in a habit of nervousness, lifting them until Loki can see them; quivering in something that's not quite anger exactly but - "Now will you _come_?"

Both Loki's eyebrows now rise and he shakes his head at him, dropping the book onto his usual seat and pushing past his younger brother, "If you insist." 

Býleistr follows him out, eyeing Loki's hands warily and very obviously pondering over whether or not he's just caught his brother practicing with his rumored-black magic, but not saying a word about it - for which Loki is grateful for. Not many do that, "So. How go the ambushing plans Mother insisted the men take heed to?" He asks him eventually as they walk. Starting conversation." 

Býleistr jumps when the silence is breached and then shrugs sullenly after slowly thinking on the question, "How would I know?" He asks with a scowl, "Helblindi is in charge of our battling, is he not. Not I." Loki smiles at him then, widening it when he then, petulantly, adds on, "He makes all the important calls." 

Laughing instead now, Loki pats him on the shoulder, "Careful now, Býleistr. Your jealousy is showing." His grip is easily shrugged off with a grunt, but Býleistr's smiling just as wide as he is anyway, and Loki can't even find it in himself to shudder when his fingers brush wings on accident; not when they're joking like this again. 

Laughter's been too rare around these parts for too long and after having lived in a kingdom that's been overcome by grief for over two months now, it feels good to do it again. 

Grief. Loki closes his eyes at the thought of that emotion, and he supposes that, perhaps, it should probably have different meaning for him now; after having seen what had happened all those weeks ago - where all those people that had been living in the outlying villages, had been massacred both brutally and _mercilessly_. Where they had been killed by those both wild and cannibalizing savages. 

Any that had survived that attack on their land had fled from their homes to stay that way, but had then been killed and eaten by the animals that tended to scavenge in the grass. Families, friends, parents and children; all lost in a matter of minutes and for a kingdom as large at theirs, the loss was still momentous and all of them had grieved for weeks. 

The word. Grief. It _should_ mean something to him now, and yet still, thinking of it only tends to bring him back toward the topic of his father instead and on that particular thought, he'd rather not. 

"Why am I being summoned then, if Mother isn't the one 'calling'?" 

"The Queen is ill, as you know - " 

"She is?" 

" _Loki_." 

It's almost fascinating, really, how someone as brash and sensitive as Býleistr can never seem to stop allowing himself opportunity to be teased by his older brothers, "Well. You'd better hope it's not another child, then. You'll no longer be our little baby brother." 

They pass a servant as he says that and she gives them a strange look - her lilac wings fluttering as she works - and her clear bemusement causes Býleistr duck his head with another scowl, "I'm no baby."

Loki nods with a grin, "Of course not." And then he gestures that Býleistr continue with his hand, interrupting him before he's even spoken, just in case the next sentence he pouts out ruins the good mood that they're both in, "Anyway. You were saying?" 

Býleistr frowns at him when Loki's hand waves in his face but he still repeats himself, regardless of Loki's uninterested tone, "As the Queen is ill, _as I know that you know_ , it falls to you, the eldest, to make decisions affecting us and our people." 

They turn a corner just as Loki shakes his head at him, "Again, Býleistr, you’ve got so much to learn. I don’t make decisions, I'm not the head of our army. Mother gave that 'special' position to her next child. The one that was actually born with _wings_." 

"No," Býleistr agrees, ignoring the comment on Loki's birthing issues, "You are not. But Helblindi still looks to you for guidance on these sorts of things and you have always been Mother's advisor whilst she rules. You were taught by father, too, and as neither of us have ever had that honor, besides you, we - " 

Loki cuts him off before this conversation can become any more uncomfortable, "What does Helblindi need my guidance for? Strategy is more his forte. I'm looked to for matters of our people and our Kingdom." 

"Exactly. Helblindi needs - " 

"I think Loki can ask me himself what I need. Don't you, Býleistr," At that drawling, bored tone from before them both, they stop in their tracks. Býleistr's wings slowly droop as he looks up, almost guilty, to nod at Helblindi; Loki doesn't react himself, other than a simple jerk of his head in greeting, "'Blindi." 

"Loki." And there we are. Always so hostile toward him: Will that ever change? Loki sighs Ah well. As Laufey has always said to him since his adolescent years, you cannot please everyone. 

Not even family. 

"Come inside." 

Býleistr's feet shuffle as he looks at Loki, unsure of whether he should follow or not, and Loki gives him a small smile in return, entering the Queen's chamber after only a short pause. He doesn't bother to look if Býleistr comes inside as well, knowing already that he will. After all. It's not as common for him as it is for Loki, to be left out of family meetings. 

The curtains have already been shut in Laufey's chambers and the small fire in the corner only gives out so much light, but still, in it's dimness, he can see already how pale she is. As per routine, he has already visited her today - this morning in fact - but under grass-woven sheets and laying instead of standing as she had been before, she lies there like she can't bring herself to move anymore. Ill. The word doesn't seem to really justify how _ill_ she looks, and the mild panic that Loki's always been good at suppressing, now decides to rise up through his throat. 

Clogging it until he has to clear it with a cough. 

Býleistr sits beside her straight away, looking over her gently, but at Helblindi's look, he stands quickly and gestures that Loki take that seat instead. The offer's declined - Loki prefers to stand at the foot of the bed, really, far from wherever Laufey's hand can try to snatch at his, and certainly far from wherever she's able to look him in the eye and make him promise things in sympathy toward her health - and so, looking a little frightened, Býleistr sits back down. A little slower and subdued this time. 

"Did you poison her?" Loki asks Helblindi eventually, lightly, swallowing past the dryness that sticks in the back of his throat, "She looks far worse now, than she did this morning." 

"Stress combats a woman more than an illness does." What? Loki resists the urge to snap at him for that. To tell him that Laufey would hate that talk, that she is no ordinary _woman_ and that speaking of her like that would probably earn him a beating that a _man_ would weep at. But. He represses that urge, if only for Býleistr's sake, and instead stands there; watching as the youngest of the three children brushes Laufey's limp hair from her light blue skin, sliding ice over her fevered forehead. 

"Why have I been called here?" He asks, instead, slowly; rolling his tongue over his teeth. 

"Mother is deteriorating." Býleistr snaps, emphasizing just how obvious this answer seems to be to him, and the misdirected anger at Loki for not thinking of it himself, "Her children should be here, with her, to - "

"Her health really isn't as fragile as you're assuming it to be Býleistr, I've seen her overcome far worse," Loki growls back, ignoring the way Býleistr's grayish wings curl up at the bite in his tone, "I've cast a spell over her anyway, to ensure that if - _if_ , she does worsen fatally, I'll be aware of it. And she has not, so ... I'll ask again. _Why_ am I here?" 

Helblindi has already bristled at the mention of Loki casting one of his spells over the Queen, but now, looking over at him properly to direct his last question toward the little-Prince-Regent, the only evidence that he can see of this is just the slight spike of his black wings; raised and ready to either fly or fight. 

Loki continues to look at him anyway - despite the obvious threat of anger - until he gains an answer, and when he finally does, Helblindi's wings are actually shaking with suppressed rage, "How is your magic?" Alright then. Not the answer he's asking for, exactly. 

"Improving." Lies. He's barely managed to learn _any_ combat spells, let alone any of the defensive sort, "Why?" 

"Because you'll be needing it to take care of the people here, is why." 

Oh, he was _really_ starting to grow tired of that pathetic little tone of his. Maybe he should even try to remind his little brother again of that saying, 'respect your elders'. Preferably with either his fists or his booted feet, or - 

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose, looking down. Or perhaps he should try to ignore it for once, if only to try and avoid one of their famous fights. He's rather had enough of those really, as has almost everyone else as well: including their mother. 

"And what will you be doing whilst I do, O protector of the people?" He sneers instead, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms across his chest, "I doubt mother will agree with you pressing issues onto - " 

" _Mother_ and I have already discussed this," Helblindi says, and at that, Loki's teeth unconsciously grind together. 'Discussed'. As per usual, things have been done and spoken of without him. He hates being kept in the dark, something that he should probably try to get used to over the rest of his life, because with this as a family, he seems to continuously be left there, "I've need to leave Jotenheimr. Tomorrow morning, actually, at the soonest. There's - this is no longer a simple matter of savages massacring our people and leaving to hide in the grass, Loki. Not for us anyway and, certainly, not for our people. I - " 

"No. No, stop." Loki holds a hand up, gesturing that he close his mouth, which - surprisingly - he does, "Are you ... are you saying to me that you wish to _leave_ Jotenheimr? To actually leave this place? To leave our walls and to venture out _there_ , into the wilderness? Where almost anything and everything is around three times our size, and where the savages await our every move? Where they take our food, ambush our men, and kill anyone in their sight! You wish to go out there and meet all of that?" He doesn't really receive a verbal answer other than a hiss of frustration, but the veins on Helblindi's wings bulge as they flap once behind him, giving him just what he needs to know anyway. He's being completely serious. " _Why_? Have you gone mad?" 

Leaving here - it is practically suicide. Soldier's leave here, yes, all the time in fact, but in bands, in sections, and still, they’re killed so easily. So easily that it's as though that despite their many years of training, it's nothing compared to what they must have faced out there. For what possible reason could Helblindi have to want to leave here? Where he's safe. 

And Laufey had agreed? She of all people, who is always warning Loki away from the walls, telling him to stay away from the soldiers and to not be including in anything battle-like because of his lack of wings. _She_ , the overprotective Queen of Jotenheimr, has agreed to let her second son leave his home. 

He's clearly - very clearly - missing something here. 

"My reasons." Helblindi says as haughtily as he usually is, "I don't need to tell you anything other than that, Loki, and I only called you here to simply tell you to - " 

" _Let me remind you of something_ ," Loki says then, darkly, leaning forward on the balls of his feet and clenching his fists over his chest. Right. There went his attempts at having a false pretense at being patient with him, to save them from arguing again, "There are three years between you and I, and three years is a lot of difference in age when it comes to responsibility and respect.” “ _I_ am the Crown Prince of this Kingdom, I am the elder and I will be King after Mother's step down - _and_ , despite all this, I still accept all of your secret meetings with her, where you discuss both myself and the people, and I also accept how you are able to make the very decisions that _I_

should be making.”

“I accept all of this and am as patient as I can be with you, but if you ever assume to 'summon' me or to speak to me like that again, I will throw every single one of your words back into your throat while I grip it tight enough to make you _weep_."

Helblindi looks at him, coolly, his wings flapping again in physical threat, "And stop trying to threaten me, your wings are hardly something to boast of."

Helblindi scoffs then, his lips curling as he bares his teeth at him, "And how would _you_ know, you belligerent _freak_? You haven't even got any to 'boast' of." 

Oh. Well. That stings. 

More than it should really, but it does - quite a lot. Loki hides his hurt just as easily as he always does though, tilting his face up to show his either unimpressed or bitter smile at Helblindi's childishness. But then Býleistr decides to join in, straightening in his seat and admonishing his older brother with a growl, " _'Blindi_." 

In contrast to the movement of Býleistr's wings, Helblindi's rise higher; a sure sign of aggression. Loki closes his eyes in weariness at the sight of it - "The pixie started it, not me." - before flashing them open again and looking over at his brother with disgust. 

Though. He supposes that maybe he shouldn't even be surprised really; it's been a while, after all, since he's been insulted in that particular manner. It was probably time to restart all of that again.

Though. 'Pixie' is rather new. 

Pixie. Wingless. Freak. _Half-breed_. 

All words that Loki has heard used against him for most of his life, and words that he thinks that he should really be used to hearing by now, but knows that he's really not whenever his heart pangs in his chest at the sound of someone calling them out after his retreating back. 

Born without wings, born without purpose; useless and outcasted. Different in too many ways, and remaining that way all his life. But. He won't really mind what he is if he's honest - not as much as he usually does anyway - if his own brother didn't always choose to rub it in his face consistently, ever since he had ever learnt that there are no other faeries like Loki. 

Faeries without wings are unheard of around here, and though there _are_ words for them and curses mentioning them, it's their rarity that tends to lead the people to isolate Loki and to avoid him whenever he walks among them - as though having no wings is a type of disease that can be passed through simple touch. 

He hates it. 

Helblindi's smug grunt draws his attention again, and he pulls himself out of his thoughts to glare at him, feeling insults of his own begin to rise. On the bed, however, Laufey moans in pain, turning over in her sleep and frowning. Býleistr puts his hand over her forehead quickly, pressing gently enough to ease her brows back up and for her to relax again. 

Loki stares at her, and then at Helblindi. Seeing nothing worth fighting over anymore, suddenly, he turns on his heels and heads for the door, "Well. If I am to be here for nothing other than to be insulted, then I'll take my leave, shall I." 

Býleistr stands to stop him when he opens the door, "Loki - " 

"The casket has gone." 

Loki freezes, his hand still on the doorknob, his fingers tracing over the buds from the flower that it used to be, "What?" 

Helblindi's feet scrape over the ground as he takes a few steps forward, "You heard me, Loki. The casket. It's been taken." 

"By who?" His hands are still tight over the door knob, gripping it until the juices still inside seep over his hand, turning the blue of his palms to a sticky green. He doesn't turn around. 

"Who do you think." 

Býleistr's looking between the two of them, his hand gripping an elbow tight, "The savages?" Helblindi barely looks at him and Loki finally turns, looking at him impassively, "Was the massacre just a diversion, then?" Býleistr continues, his voice shaking, "They were after our life source all this time?" 

"Don't be a fool Býleistr, there was no way they would have gotten past our defenses." Helblindi spits, still looking at Loki, still waiting for a reaction. 

"But - I don't understand. Who else would take it, if not the - ?" 

"Another kingdom." Loki interrupts, his voice low in it's realization and he sighs, looking away, "Yet another kingdom ... looking for _War_." 

Býleistr looks to Helblindi for confirmation but he only gets a curt nod just as his brother simply looks toward the Queen instead. 

Always looking for her love, Loki notices, looking for her encouragement. Always disappointed whenever it was given to Loki instead. Were the tables turned, perhaps it would even be Loki who would tend to lash out in jealously at every turn, and it's those thoughts that keep him in trying to be so patient with him. Because he understands. He understands the need to demand just why he isn't as loved or as needed as his elder brother is. 

Although Loki is continuously kept away from meetings and is given no other title in the kingdom other than his birthright as 'Crown Prince', and all three of them are constantly reminded that it is only because of his lack of wings that this is so. That if Loki _is_ to ever go into battle, he would be defenseless, and that the Queen only keeps him in the dark for his own protection. 

But Loki knows himself what the truth of this is. He had once demanded it of his own father himself, years ago, only to learn then that that man had not been _his_ father after all. And that Loki's father, his _true_ father, had been a human instead.

A mortal human man, still living somewhere out there now, eight times their size and trampling over their homes wherever he steps. Under spell and succumbed with love, Laufey had morphed him into something smaller, into a faerie, to be with him - though he had had no wings to show this. 

_Just as Loki does not_. 

Passion, lust - it all tends to lead to the same thing and eventually Loki had been conceived. Tormented by others for having chosen a human, Laufey had ignored the jibes given to her, but they had still affected her human. And one day, after a physical attack on his person, she’d forced herself to revoke her spell on him. Turning him human once again, melting his memories of her and their unborn child, and sending him away to live elsewhere. 

Loki had been born the day that she had met Fárbauti - heir to the throne of Jotenheimr. His help with the pain had led her to love his kindness and, as he had told Loki all those years ago, he had seen her then to be so unlike the many women that he had met before, he couldn't help but be intrigued by her. And then, eventually, to be in love with her. 

Helblindi had been born when Loki had been three years of age, when he'd just been learning how to handle a sword, and he had been completely mesmerized by the sight of wings on his baby brother's back; puzzled as to why he hadn't any himself. 

Both parents had assured him that he will grow them soon, once he grew older himself and matured enough for them to 'burst through his skin', but then Býleistr had been born with the same tiny wings and having two younger brothers with different bodily parts than him - not to mention that he was seeing other children running around with wings as well - Loki very obviously began to feel a little abnormal when compared to others and by the time he turned ten, he began to demand answers. 

Fárbauti, now King of Jotunheim after his father's death in the War against the savages, had then decided to take Loki aside and to disclose the secrets of his birth to him. Helblindi would have been almost around seven then, with Býleistr just turning three, and neither of them remember the screams and cries that Loki had had that day, learning at such a young age that his family was not his family and the only bind he had with his brothers was with his mother's blood. And not. With his father's. 

But Laufey and Fárbauti had explained all to him; that it changed nothing and eventually, though he's always known the truth since that day, Loki still sees Fárbauti as his true father and loves him as such. Which is why, as per this, the word grief will always remain stuck with the mere mention of the King to him, because not even two months after revealing Loki's true heritage, Fárbauti had lost his own life in the same War that had taken his father's. 

Leaving behind a grieving wife, who had then become Queen in his stead, a distraught Crown Prince and two younger princes who had not yet bonded with their father as much as they had with their mother. To them, they had not lost much in the way of a man in their family, but to Loki he had lost his teacher and his friend. Fárbauti may have had a temper, but he had never once shown it to his family, and only to his men had it ever been known. 

Loki, himself, had seen it only the once, when Fárbauti had heard another insult his father's name, but when Laufey had taken him away from the fight, he had instantly calmed in her presence. 

Loki remembers thinking then, that he hoped that maybe one day, he could have a love like that. Because with his own temper being a little too easily spiked, he feared, and still fears now, that he may hurt his own family himself; once he marries in the future. 

No one has been able to calm him before, not like he remembers Laufey calming Fárbauti all those years ago, and that one memory is one of the most prominent that he has of his father. The one that he always seems to remember when thinking of him. 

The War however, of the savages and such, is another such topic that brings up the memory of the King - but this time, it is not because of his grief, but because he has no idea of what he should do now. 

What memory or teaching from Fárbauti does he call up for this? What does he think now? 

If the casket is gone, the very thing that both his father and grandfather have been protecting all this time, and it is _not_ the savages who have taken it, then who do they look to now for answers? 

Laufey? An excellent Queen she may be, but she is not of the royal blood. She was not born into it's household and only married into it instead. With Fárbauti eleven years gone and dead, who - 

"We look to you," Loki starts, looking up with a jerk and turning to stare at the bed. Laufey's eyes are not open, not really, but it's clear that she was the one who had spoken, "We look to you now, my son." 

"Mother - " Helblindi protests, shaking his head at her when she tries to sit up over the sheets. 

"Coddle me and you’ll regret it, 'Blindi, I may be ill but I am still the leader of our people." Loki smiles at her. "And don't mock your brother through one of your 'smiles' Loki." He instantly drops the expression, "Loki. You know what this means," He looks at her, trying not to betray the fact that he's as lost in this as both of his brothers are, "Never, has the casket been taken from us. This kingdom - It must be found and it must be returned. We cannot survive long without it." 

"But how - " Býleistr starts, looking between Loki and his mother. He clears his throat, "Do we know who has taken it?" 

Loki turns to Helblindi, asking him with his eyes. He gets his answer, but it's vaguer than he'd hoped it'd be, "We only know that they reside in the northern regions of this land. At least a day or two’s travel." 

"And how do we know this much already?" Loki asks, verbally now, "Were they seen?" 

Laufey eases herself out of the sheets, leaning against the withering wood of her headboard; the petal of the daffodil that it had once been, now slowly rotting. They would have to replace it soon. Perhaps it dying is even what the cause of her sudden illness is, "No. The guard of the casket named it stolen an hour after the gates opened to allow for our troops to return from ambush. We were left this," She gestures to Helblindi and he turns, reaching into a sack and slowly pulling out a tiny, glittering curved dagger. It's yellow in color, clearly having been carved out from something that a human had left behind - something metal - and it is hand made. Beautiful really. In it's own way, "It was left plunged into the wood of the casket's pedestal. Nothing else, but this message." 

"Message?" Býleistr asks, looking at Loki now, but still, clearly, talking to his mother, "A threat?" 

"Yes." Loki answers, looking at Laufey for confirmation and he receives a short - weary - nod, "A threat of War." 

"Mother knows the kingdom." Helblindi says, "She recognizes the runes on the knife, she knows where it has come from. And she has sent me to retrieve the casket from them." 

"Not alone," Laufey reassures Loki when he jerks his head toward her, narrowing his eyes, "I would never send one of my own, no matter how experienced, into an enemy's kingdom unprotected. He'll go with a band of men." She winces, pressing a hand to her head and gratefully takes the water from Býleistr, "I would go myself, you know that I would, but ... " She sighs bitterly, looking down at herself, "And so Helblindi will go. We need the casket back, without it we cannot hope to fight back against whatever torrent of soldiers they send our way. We are already weak after the attack from the savages. We need our power back." 

Loki swallows, looking toward Helblindi. He's standing rigid now, his face set and determined, but there is a faint tremor to his left hand. His sword-hand. The hand that he usually keeps so steady for his fighting accuracy. 

He's afraid. 

"Loki. With 'Blindi gone, it will be you who will train our armies to prepare for a - " 

"No." 

She freezes. "What?" 

"No." Loki repeats, enunciating the word slowly, looking her in the eye, "I will not train your armies for this." 

Laufey's red eyes are glazed from her illness and as she stares at Loki in shock over his statement, they almost seem to steam in anger, "You will do asked." She growls at him, sitting up. Býleistr gapes at Loki but his expression doesn't change. He stands his ground. 

"I will not." He says firmly, "I will not allow Helblindi to walk into an enemy's kingdom, young as he is. However 'protected' he may be in doing so." 

Laufey's face softens at that, and she sighs again, "Loki - " 

" _I_ will go." 

" _What_?" Helblindi spits, staring at him, "You? You cannot even _fly_ , what will you do if you're caught? You'll be a liability to the soldiers, not an assistance." 

"Helblindi." Laufey reprimands him sharply, glaring at him until he drops his head and closes his eyes, "Hear him first." She then looks at Loki, "All my life," She starts and he turns away, gritting his teeth, "All my life Loki, I have protected you and how you are. Your lack of wings, your loss of flight and power is detrimental toward your survival. If you leave these walls I cannot continue to prot - " 

"Mother. I - love you, and I am grateful for all that you have done for me, but if I am to _ever_ be King then I will need to learn to protect myself. The savages still live nearby and will be awaiting news on any bands of soldiers that leave from Jotunheim to cut across their land. They will attack before Helblindi has even made it across to the kingdom that’s taken our casket. You all fight your battles through the sky, you _fly_ your journeys." Laufey tilts her head, frowning now, though it's in thought and not anger, at what he's saying. "You fly, and I _walk_. I've no wings, and only my magic. I am more accustomed to traveling through the grass whilst you all prefer to fly above it." 

Helblindi scoffs, "Fine. Then my soldiers will walk there instead." 

"No." Loki shakes his head, curtly cutting his brother down, "You will still be noticed, regardless of whatever you try to do," He pins his gaze back on his mother, meeting her eyes, "But. If _I_ go - if I go _alone_ , then I will have more of a chance of traveling unnoticed and surviving out there. Whereas Helblindi and his soldiers will be discovered in less than an hour beyond the walls and attacked. They'll be weakened, or even, perhaps, killed." Helblindi drops his arms from his chest, looking at Laufey with a roll of his eyes, "You know that I'm right mother," Her eyes burn into his but he holds the gaze coolly, "You know that you cannot protect me forever." 

There's a pause. Býleistr looks like he wants to interrupt, to offer his help or to argue that there must be some other way, but the silence becomes gradually oppressive and he remains as quiet as the rest of them. 

Eventually, reluctantly, Laufey beckons Helblindi, "Get your brother a sword." She tells him, and Loki tries hard to hide how his chest swells at that, "He leaves tomorrow." She presses a finger to Helblindi's lips when he opens them to protest, "You will continue to train the armies until his return." She then looks at Loki, "You. You will have four days to return. If you've not come back after that time, I’ll have no choice but to send my army toward that kingdom. To retrieve the casket and to fight the war that they so clearly want." She sighs, "Our kingdom has seen enough damage. So if you can, convince them to stay at bay. Convince them that we can live peacefully." 

Loki's hands unclench, and he nods once, stepping forward to take the hand she reaches out for him, clasping his fingers between hers and squeezing, "I will." 

She closes her eyes and excuses her other two sons, choosing to speak with Loki in private. For the first time in his entire life. 

_Private._

.

~

.

Loki's heart pounds along with every step of his as he makes his way out of the castle walls, clambering over the fence until he can reach the gates at the end. He can still feel Laufey's kiss - cold, though the rest of her had been feverishly warm - on his cheek and he presses a hand to it as he walks. She never tends to show affection like that, prefers to say it really, but in this situation he supposes that he can understand why she'd needed to.

Helblindi is to wait for him at the gate, he's been told, but Býleistr has already been to see him. His little brother has always been the sort to either cry or worry but this time he had actually done a good job of hiding it. From a stranger's view, there would have been no telling that he was so close to bawling, but from Loki's view ... well. He'd not commented on it.

The sack of food and rope weighs down over him and he remembers the small promise of keeping safe that he'd made to his brother just before it had been handed over to him. He adjusts the strap as he makes his way over to the gate, ducking past any Jotuns that have decided to mingle around here, avoiding them asking him where he's going.

He makes it to gate in just under ten minutes, and it's opened for him before he even has to call up to the sentry. Helblindi doesn't offer any words of warning or comfort, and instead, gives him a simple glare and spits out: "Don't die."

Loki raises an eyebrow, "I'll do my best." Helblindi punches his shoulder when he passes and Loki catches the fist, shoving him back with a short laugh. It's returned and that same hand clasps at his neck.

"I mean it."

"I know."

The black of Helblindi's wings merge with the dark of the night and they shield Loki as he sneaks out, keeping him hidden until the eventual sunrise sends everyone back into the castle and leaves him alone. The grass towers over him, and he can't help but shiver in either fear or anticipation at what could be waiting out here for him.

But he shakes his head at himself, pressing on quickly so as to not waste anymore time. Laufey had told him to go west, but traveling through the rocks and not through grass is too risky in the daylight. He shoulders past the smaller layers of grass instead, avoiding the stickiness of dew and sap and jumping over any of the twigs that are scattered everywhere, going around anything too big for him to pass over.

And he's just passing the point where the walls of Jotenheimr cannot be seen at all, when he hears voices. He ducks behind one of the larger blades of grass beside him and clutches at his bag to stop it sliding off and rustling. The voices pass and he grits his teeth when he recognizes the tone. When he recognizes the names.

Savages.

It's always been unclear as to whether or not they have a kingdom of their own somewhere, but they've always managed to find somewhere safe to hide away whenever Laufey sent her army out to vanquish them. The leader of them, Odin, has never really been seen and, if they do have a kingdom, that's probably where he spends his days.

His son, however. Thor. His face is everywhere. He's hated in Jotenheimr, hated and wanted for his blood. He'd been the brute that had led the massacre on Loki's people. It's due to _him_ that there's been so much grief in his home, so much death.

When he finds Thor _Odinson_.

He's dead.

The voices completely pass now, nothing more than faded murmurs and Loki moves on. He finds one of the paths made for carriages, and tries to find a housefly or butterfly to help him journey on. Unfortunately, the sun has only just risen and nothing with wings will be out right now.

Well. Nothing with wings that would want to help _him_ that is.

Luck has him though, for while he walks, he doesn't see anymore glimpses of any savages at all. He knows that he shouldn't be surprised, knows that they'll be looking out for those with wings and those that fly in bands and in numbers, but he can't help the slight prickle of unease that fills him anyhow. That makes him think, then, that maybe. Maybe they're waiting for something. Maybe they're _planning_.

He rests under an overturned fallen leaf for the night, rubbing at his aching feet until they eventually allow him to succumb to his exhaustion. Throughout the night, he awakens at different points in time, startled by some noise or animal call, and he huddles into himself against the cold; hating that others can so easily just curl their wings around themselves for warmth. He has only his hands.

Morning comes and he awakens to the strange, tickley feel of an antennae running along his cheek. Opening his eyes, he barks out a startled yell at the two sets of eyes that stare down at him, scrambling away when the two ants that are standing there try to clamber over him; feeling their way by touching his skin with theirs.

He pants against the leaf, staring at them wide-eyed and struggling to recall everything that he's ever learnt about the outside world. When nothing comes to him immediately, he unsheathes his sword instead and the ants shriek at him, their antennas flailing in panic and the ground thuds as they crawl away.

Well, alright then. 

Are all ants that foolish, or is - Loki's hair is suddenly blown forward over his face, from a catch of wind behind him. He freezes, for only a moment, when he realises what it is. Another breath, a thrumming purr, and then he's running.

Whatever had breathed on him, scented him likely, doesn't bother with a chase and Loki slumps against the roots of a tree when he notices that nothing is chasing him. His hands are shaking but he ignores them and sheaths his sword, clenching them into fists and ploughing on through the grass.

Hopefully, whatever that had been, decides to eat a few savages that walk around out here, instead of trying to find a meal in Loki.

He walks as he did yesterday - ignoring how his feet already begin to protest - if only more carefully, looking out for any more insects that may try to attack him. He's delved deeper into the grass now, after all, and further away from his home. There is bound to be more out here. He'll have to be careful.

Noon arrives gradually and the only other incident that had had Loki fearing for his life, had been when a sparrow had landed in the tree above him just past midday. Loki had pressed himself flat against the blade of grass when he'd seen it, and had stayed quiet; waiting for it to go. After a few minutes, it had swooped down in a literal gust of wind - landing just next to him - and had yanked a worm out of the ground with it's beak, ignoring Loki, thankfully, and flying away once it had had it's meal in it's mouth.

Parting through grass, just as the sun begins to set on his second day out here, Loki tenses at the sound of repetitive thuds nearby, biting his lip and _hoping_ that it isn't the sound of something two times his size heading his way. Nothing happens for a while, however, and when he shoulders past another archway of grass, he finds himself looking up at a wall.

Finally.

The wall spans across both sides, white in color - pale, with the hinted smell of limestone - and it's large. Similar to Jotenheimr's own gate-ridden one. Loki stands there for a while, staring up at it, trying to figure out how to scale it without being seen, and - 

"Who goes there?"

He rears back immediately, jerking his head up, but the sentry that he hadn't even _seen_ standing there isn't looking anywhere near him anyway. He's standing off to another side, looking down at where the gate must be. Loki listens; watching.

A different, and much deeper, voice calls back up to the guard afterward and, slowly, Loki can hear the wood of the gate's creak as it begins to open for whoever it is.

Loki quickly hurries around, skimming along the wall with his back to it and looking up to make sure that no other guard can see him running past like this. He turns one of the only corners that he can see, and abruptly skids to a halt as soon as he can see whoever it is entering this new kingdom.

He blinks. There are several carriages parked just a few feet in front of him, laden armed men on each side and with a slightly more elderly man standing tall at the front of them all, smiling up at the guard that's letting him inside.

Loki slides past them all, taking advantage of the fact that, though his heart is pounding hard in his chest, the lack of wings that he has allows him to at least have a lack of fluttering; which would probably have gathered attention. So. The list of advantages of being born like this are small, yes, but still, useful.

None of the men notice him sneaking closer and he slips around to the opening of one of the carriages, pulling himself up under it's leaf-woven covers just as it starts to roll forward into the kingdom's open gates.

He leans against the wood keeping the carriage together, letting out a quiet breath of relief. Success. Useless, is he? He's found the kingdom already, in only two days out of the seven that he's been given, and he's found a way inside as well.

Now. Now all he needs is to find the casket and to bring it home. And then he can convince everyone back there of just how _useful_ he can be.

With, or without, wings.

.

~

.

Loki's eyes flash open when the carriage comes to a shuddering halt and he berates himself for dozing in the first place. He could be _anywhere_ right now, and with all of his training, what on earth had he been think -

There's a light tinkle above him and he slowly looks up, hoping that it's not anything sinister, or even, one of the men having found him. Instead, he finds that it's a pile of weapons - daggers, spears, swords - all lain over each other ready for use.

He frowns, prodding at one of the sheathes until it slides away from him. There are more littered around the carriage, and the boxes beside them look to be likely full of weapons as well. Hm. Either this kingdom is incredibly violent, or these men are here for something other than negotiation.

Loki shifts over the floor, pushing himself up to stand and to leave, but when his hands find the flap to the carriage to push it back, it's pulled out of his hands before he can do it himself. His heart almost stops but the man tugging at it isn't even looking at him and he continues his murmured conversation on with another armed man standing behind him. Loki takes that bit of luck that he suddenly has and dives behind a pile of boxes near the front of the carriage before any of one them decides to look up.

One of the soldiers remains standing outside whilst the two men walk into the carriage; still talking. The elderly man that Loki had seen before, is one of them, " - course I’m not saying that, sir. It's just a precaution, actually. We’re not even sure whether or not the Queen will let us into the court." Loki holds his breath, digging his hands into the wood and automatically listening in.

The elderly man - the leader, likely - places a hand on his soldier's arm, smiling in that one, strange way that has Loki almost immediately seeing the numerous lies that cover him, "She doesn't have to let us in, if she refuses. We've got a backup for that as well. Her _son_ trusts me with his life, he'll let us in."

"And then what?"

"And then we take it. We put the balance of all this power into our hands, you know that," Loki frowns, listening in harder now, chewing on the inside of his cheek, “The right hands.”

"I know what we're here for, Lord Stane, I do. I just - the Prince isn't exactly submissive or obedient, is he. He'll make something, like he always does, and then what do we - "

The man, Stane, waves a dismissive hand, "I've already made it clear to the rest of you. Tony trusts me with everything; it's one of his most major flaws, really. One that I've nurtured for all these years babysitting the little brat, so I _know_. He's naive about the world," He slings an arm around the soldier, "And too easily led by a few well-placed lies.” “He'll take whatever I say, trust me, and we'll get in before he can even try to do anything about it. And then it's just a matter of time," 

The soldier still looks unconvinced and Stane's face hardens behind his back, "And even if he does _try_ to make anything locked up in a dungeon, we can always just kill him. It's the Queen we need, not him," Stane sighs, as though in regret, despite the fact that he's still smiling, "Tony's as expendable as his father had been, and if he dies too, then. Well. It'll just be all the more easier to convince the Queen that she needs to act, won't it."

Loki bends lower in his crouch, shifting closer until he can get a better angle to look at this man. To have his face imprinted in his memory.

"And Jotenheimr isn't exactly far, is it. With Asgard already at war, we only need just _one_ more dispute, and then there's nothing in the way of taking them all." Loki's heart freezes in his chest and his mind reels as it tries to make sense of this all. These men, these _criminals_?, or whoever they are, have clearly been planning all of this for a while now. And they've included Loki's kingdom in their scheme.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, still listening, thinking over what they're saying and trying to work it all out for himself.

It sounds simple enough - overtaking the kingdoms by turning them all against each other. Perhaps even taking things of theirs, antagonizing them. Could they even be the cause of the savage's attack on Jotenheimr?

No. That had certainly been Thor and his band.

But had it been antagonized? Had it been _planned_?

He needs to warn his mother of this. He needs to get back home as soon as possible.

"And what makes you so sure they're going to attack each other anyway? … sir?"

Stane grins now, his lips splitting over his teeth as he looks past a crack in the leaf. Loki's face tightens at that expression and, though his own father is one, he can't help but relate it to something rather _human_. Much like one of those giant children, after they have just stamped over an insect trying it's hardest to burrow into the ground, to escape. That look of sick satisfaction, "Without their casket, Jotenheimr will die. They already know that it was a Midgardian that took it, it'll only be a matter of time before Maria and her son have a war on their hands ... "

So they are inciting war. Antagonizing the kingdoms to create sufficient distractions to gain whatever it is that they want and -

Wait.

The casket.

The _casket_.

Loki clenches his fists over the wood of the box that he's hidden behind, uncaring of the fact that bent splinters begin to cut into his palms as he does, choosing to simply glower at the man standing before him instead. The man that has just admitted to stealing his home's _life_ force. The man that is the cause of sending Loki on this whole journey here in the first place.

Stane. _Stane_.

that name. Remember everything. He has to tell his mother this; all of it. He has to warn his home. They've already had a lot of devastation - too much - at the hands of the Savages, they cannot have another War on their doorstep. Not now.

The leaf parts at the edge, sending sunlight in, and Loki recoils away from it, hoping that he'll not be seen now that everything is lit. The other soldier, the one that had remained outside, pokes his head in, "Sir. The men have returned from depositing the casket in the Prince's bedroom. They’re all in place and awaiting your signal."

Stane's smile grows and he slides his arm off of the soldier beside him, stepping out of the carriage, "Good. That's good." In contrast to how it had frozen over before, Loki's heart now pulses with a burning heat and he has to physically restrain himself from lunging over and slitting the man's throat with Helblindi's sword, "I gather that you've granted me audience with the Queen, then, as well?" There's a confirmation and their voices continue, though they fade as they begin to walk away.

Loki stays crouched for over half an hour before finally moving. Outside the carriage, he can't see any soldiers anymore, other than a few pairs that are littered around as guards. He rolls to the floor quickly - just after having thrown himself out of the carriage that he had been hidden in - and he crawls around the back; wincing when his foot knocks against a wheel.

There's a creak and, when a guard nearby looks up, Loki kicks at it again, purposefully this time; running as fast as he can toward one of the doorways embedded in the wall, whilst the guards run after the carriage to stop it hurtling out the gate.

He pants against the stone, ducking inside and checking that no one is coming down the other corridor. He doesn't recognize anything but at least he knows that he's still in the kingdom then. And, from the looks of things, this is the castle of whatever royalty there is here.

One of the soldiers had told his leader - Stane - that the casket had been deposited in the "Prince's bedroom". So now, all he needs to do, is _find_ that room, take the casket, and return home before anything more can happen to him or his kingdom. His mother has given him two weeks to return. Two weeks until she sends her army to - 'Midgard', or whatever it's called.

It's more time than he needs, if things continue on like this, and he hopes - he _hopes_ things continue on like this. He hasn't time to waste, not with the information that he now possesses.

Walking through the corridor, Loki can feel his uneasiness grow with each step, wincing as they echo into the quiet and wondering whether this kingdom is merely smaller than his own or if everyone else is elsewhere. Because every single corridor that he walks into ... is empty.

Of course, there is the odd servant, the odd guard, but no one else passes him by whilst he walks in the castle of a supposed enemy kingdom. His hands skim over the runes etched into the walls as he steps past them, trying to decipher the lettering and giving up. His head snaps to the left, however, when a sudden chorus of shouts erupts from a nearby staircase.

He presses himself flat against the wall, suddenly hearing cries and screams - the slicing of sword through either skin or wing - and he knows now that whatever the men from before had been planning has now begun. Turning the corner, he collides with a running woman and she shouts in his face, fear widening her eyes until he moves to let her past, and then she's running again. Running. Running from something.

Loki spins around, narrowing his eyes as he looks down the corridor that she had just come from. Right. Best not to go down there then. He steps to the side, his back hitting a door behind him and he opens it on instinct, rushing inside and closing it with a click.

Still walking backward, he accidentally knocks down a human-made ornament to the ground and it clangs. Voices immediately sound outside the door afterward, and he turns quickly, finding a chest beside the only bed in the room and throwing himself into it.

He just manages to shut it's lid before the door flies open and around a dozen faeries walk inside. Stane with them. Loki's breath catches as he turns his head to watch through the keyhole, squinting through the dark of the chest.

"Unhand me!" A woman. The Queen? She comes into view a second later; tall, dark haired and beautiful enough to catch the glances of someone like Helblindi, "You have no right to - !"

"Whatever threat you're trying to spit out, Maria, I’d forget it. It’ll just be ignored," Stane drawls, his hand lazily skimming a knife under her throat. She's dressed in some rather fancy clothing, rose petals woven with threaded patterns from silk worms, and Stane must have ambushed her people right in the middle of some sort of celebration.

Right when they had least been expecting it. Clever. Disgustingly clever.

"Stane. How could you." Maria, the Queen, doesn't really look the least bit frightened of there being a dagger pressed to her skin and instead glowers at her sudden-newfound enemy as best she can, "After all we've done for you. After all _Howard_ did f - "

"Howard?" Stane smiles at her, "Howard was a rat. I never did understand why you married him, he never cared much for anything but himself," His smile grew and he looked at the door, "He didn't even care enough about his own son to tell him to be suspicious of me."

"You don't know anything _about_ Tony, you - !"

Loki bites his lip, he can't stay here, he has to leave, he has to find the casket -

"Oh I think I know more about him than either of his parents ever will. That's the thing with children, they always seem to latch onto the one person that they shouldn't." Stane says with a laugh, twisting the dagger away from Maria, "In fact, I even think that I _owe_ all of this to him," He turns then, snapping his fingers at one of his men, "But anyway, I wanted to save this part for you. Why don't you ask for an explanation yourself?"

Maria visibly stiffens, struggling against the hands holding her back and she understands the implication just as Loki does. Understands that Stane has her son captive as well. And now Loki can see her even more clearly; he can see the bruise on her cheek and the way her arms are twisted behind her to stop her from escaping. If this were his mother, in this situation? Loki's hands clench into fists.

The door opens again when Stane snaps his fingers for a second time and two more of his men step inside, holding a struggling and obscenely cursing faerie between them; shoving the hood of his cloak down over his face as he thrashes in their grasp. Stane steps in front of them once they stop, blocking Loki's view partially now, and he wrenches the hood back.

The Prince - Tony is his name, isn't it? - cries out, and Loki can see his legs tensing from around the forest of legs in his view; preparing to either kick out or run.

"You -- _bastard_."

Stane tuts at the insult, shifting to the side and giving both Maria and Loki a clear view of what he does next. Tony doesn't make a sound when he's backhanded across the face, but he does shut his eyes at the blow, keeping his head turned to the side. Maria winces for her son, her own anger rising steadily as she looks over at Stane.

Tony snaps his head up with a snarl when Stane takes a step toward the Queen, his eyes wide and full of a guilt he probably doesn't need to feel, "Mom! I didn't know he was going to do anything like this, I swear! When he asked me to let him in, I thought it was just because of his - " This time he shouts when he's hit and a single drop of blood stains his bottom lip.

Maria doesn't comfort her son, but it's clear even to Loki, that she wants to. She stays how she is, standing upright and glaring at Stane, "What do you want?" Inwardly, Loki sincerely applauds her icy tone.

"You know what I want," Stane growls, his own inner rage showing itself now, after being so carefully hidden before. Tony continues to struggle behind him in the silence that follows and Stane rolls his eyes then, sighing over at Maria as though expecting her to do something about her son, before directing his next words to the men holding the Prince, "Either shut him up now, or kill him."

" _No!_ " Stane raises an eyebrow and Maria slumps in the guard's hands, "Don't kill him. Whatever it is you want, if you hurt him, you won't get it from me." It's as simple a request, logical and typical even, but maybe it had been the demanding tone that she'd said it in that causes Stane's face to darken like it does next.

Loki flinches in time with Tony when Stane grabs Maria by the hair, pulling her head down and tilting her face up to meet his, "You'll give me what I want no matter _what_ I do to your son," He snarls in her face, and she bites her lip to hold back whatever sound of pain she desperately needs to let out. Tony swallows, breathing heavily and his face betrays the helplessness he feels but - for just a second - his eyes glance over toward the chest in sheer coincidence and he pauses.

Loki stares at him through the keyhole back, and he knows, he _knows_ , that the Prince has seen him.

The smallest indent appears between the other boy's brows but he flicks his gaze away quickly, looking back at his mother.

"Perhaps I'll even sell him," Stane continues, tauntingly, bitterly, and Tony's expression shutters into something more fear than wariness, "You'll not be needing an heir for long, anyway, he may as well be of some use."

"You touch him - " Maria threatens but she doesn't get to finish because -

"Oi. What do you keep looking at? Huh?" Stane turns, his face bordering on boredom now, and he looks at the guard that had spoken. Said guard has a tight grip on the Prince's shoulders, shaking him, "His majesty here seems to find that chest over there, interesting."

"Really.” Stane frowns, sheathing his dagger into his belt and tilting his head at Tony, “And what is then? Have you got some sort of little project in there, then? Some little secret weapon?" The men laugh whilst Tony's expression remains blank. Then. When Stane is close enough, he spits in his face. Obviously expecting to be hit in return for that, he flinches, but Stane simply orders his men to drive him to his knees, before barking out, "Open it."

Damn. Loki braces himself, watching as hands begin to reach for the lid of the chest. He rolls his shoulders back, holds his breath and -

The lid opens with a click, and it's only a second later that he's jumping out. The first guard goes down with a simple kick to the chin but the second is harder. He overcomes his shock quickly enough and unsheathes his sword, making him harder to fight until Loki can get enough time to pull his own out to parry. At the sudden disturbance, the other men in the room dive into action, trying to overcome Loki and grab his arms to restrain him.

Tony elbows one of his captors in the face, stamping on his foot when he reaches for his arm again and rushing forward to help his mother. Stane shoves him back before he can, and he collides with Loki, sending them both sprawling.

A guard steps over Loki's wrist when he reaches for his fallen sword and he bites back a shout, staring up at him. Stane shakes himself off, actually looking a little ruffled, "What on Earth is a _Jotun_ doing here?"

Loki doesn't quite smirk but, evidently, everyone else in the room can tell that he wants to as they all begin to tense all over again, as though he's likely to make another attempt at taking them all down single-handedly. Tony is grabbed by the waist by the same guard as before and pressed into the wall in punishment for the blow that his elbow had given the man's face before.

With the Prince out the way now, Loki pounces up and Stane takes a step back, staring at him, "What do you want here?"

"You know what I want," Loki snarls, relaying the man's own words to him, but a shout at the door alerts him to the fact that there are more armed men around the castle. He's outnumbered. Badly outnumbered. But - he needs the casket.

The two men before him take a step forward, crowding him. Maria is still held back and she's staring at him with the same awed expression that Stane has on his face.

He hasn't time for the casket now, but at least he knows where it is - maybe he can return for it? He'd _better_ be able to return for it, because he'll be damned if he goes home without it.

The Prince's bedroom, remember that. The Prince's -

There's the echoing sound of a sword clinking against another and more voices sound by the door. Time to leave. His eyes scan the room, scan the layout, scan the - rubbish chute. There's one like it back home, similar in Jotenheimr, in one of the guest's room and the main hall. Made for only one purpose.

A chute that leads to the outside world. Ridding their castle of rubbish and also ... gaining an escape tunnel for any emergency situations. For situations much like this one.

He only really needs a distraction.

"Whoever this Jotun is, kill him," Stane orders casually, and Loki blinks, turning his gaze back to him, "Let the rest of them know what happens when they come to a Midgardian kingdom."

"My people are not violent." Maria growls from behind him, and Stane smirks coldly, barely looking at her.

"They're not _your_ people anymore, your highness."

The Queen's wings, golden in color and with faint tints of purple, begin to flutter in anger and the sound that it creates seems to echo around them all, oddly filling the room, until Loki realises that the cause of that is due to the fact that Tony's wings are fluttering to the same beat as well. He can't see them, not with him pressed to the wall like that, but the sound is exactly the same.

 _Exactly_ the same - he raises his head and meets the Queen's eyes too precisely to be a coincidence and, perhaps he does or perhaps he doesn't, but he's sure he doesn't imagine that nod.

A signal. Mother and son. Conspiring together.

Loki takes a step back just as the tempo of their fluttering increases and Stane notices it as well now, his brows coming together in both confusion and annoyance but, as soon as he turns toward Maria to demand that she stop, her booted foot slams into his head. He stumbles backward with a shout, moving to strike her back, but Tony moves then as well.

His knee slams into the crotch of the man holding him in place and, just as the guard goes down with a cry, Loki grabs his sword and holds it ready. Maria shoves the men holding her back, walking backward forcefully until their knees hit the bed and they fall over it - her landing on top and knocking the wind out of them. She curls her wings in and takes flight indoors, heading for her son, before -

A knife flies through the air. It slices through one of her wings so easily, it might as well have been a leaf. For a second she falters in the air, and Tony freezes, staring at her in mute horror. And then she's falling.

"No - !" Loki turns at the cry, looking at the Prince as he presses a hand to his mouth, "No, what have you _done_?" He rushes forward, trying to get there before Stane does, but he's too late. Maria lands hard on the floor, slumped and unconscious, blood seeping through her left wing where the nerve had been sliced - she'd heal from a wound like that, Loki's sure, she'll be fine. Well. She'll be fine in time, and if left to rest, but - right now? Who knows.

But what he himself does know now, is that he has to leave. Now. Before any other men decide to arrive.

The Prince ducks beside him when a guard reaches for him and he bumps against Loki when trying to get to his mother. In the corner of his eye, Loki sees the glint of a knife unsheathing out of another man's pocket, ready to administer the same wound the Queen now has to her own son.

And that's when Loki moves. He lunges to the side, blocking the knife with the brace on his arm and knocking against the Prince hard. They fall together and Loki's up in a second, grabbing him by the wrist and hurtling himself toward the chute, "No - wait!" He ignores the shout, ignores how Tony still reaches for his mother and tries to pull his arm out of Loki's grip, but the chute's opened with a kick before he can move and Loki throws himself down it.

Taking the other faerie down with him.

Stane's cry of, "Leave them!", is drowned out by the rushing of water and Loki holds his breath before he meets it. It's warm, sticky and thick at the end of the chute, and the both of them gasp and gulp in the air around when they finally reach it's surface.

Tony's soaked hair sticks to his face and he sucks in deep breaths before the water pushes him under again. Loki splutters against it and paddles himself away from the waves but he's dragged down as well soon enough. He barely makes it to the shore afterward, choking against whatever fluid it is they're swimming in, because now, after having it wash over him and into his mouth, he's almost certain that it isn't water.

The Prince lands beside him, panting and shaking, pushing his hair out of his face and glaring over at Loki; trying to catch enough breath to say: "Are you out of your fucking _mind_?"

Loki coughs behind a hand, gagging at the smell around them, and wipes at his mouth, "No need to thank me, your highness." He says dryly, struggling to stand for a few moments before finally getting a grip on the wall of rock behind them and using it to help him walk away.

" _Thank_ \- ?" Tony follows him, slipping in the mud for a second before catching up easily, "Do you seriously think that I'll - You almost got us both _killed_!" Loki rolls his eyes, shaking his hair out and struggling up the bank, "Who the hell are you, anyway? And what were you doing in my Mother's room, of all places?"

"Looking for something," Loki answers, as curt as he can manage. Going out of his way to save someone else, and this is his thanks for it. Typical, "I'd no idea it was your 'mother's' room, I was merely hiding from your men out there."

"They aren't 'my' men, they're - look, never mind." There's a light tinkle of water over the back of Loki's neck and he grits his teeth against the blatant disregard for his comfort, whilst the Midgardian Prince dries himself behind him, "Just take me back and we'll forget about all this, shall we. Stane's still got my Mom and, and with her wings ... " He trails off, but Loki doesn't stop, his hands clenched already at the sheer _tone_ of his - "Uh - hello? Where are you going, the Castle's _that_ way."

"Yes, I'd noticed." Loki mutters, still not looking back, "Off you go, then."

There's a moment of silence from behind him after he'd spoken before he can hear the patter of feet running after him, "Wait, wait. Don't tell me that you're actually going to go out into the _grass_ out there." Loki still doesn't look back but he doesn't need to because all of a sudden, the younger faerie is in front of him - baring his way, "What, are you nuts?"

"I am well accustomed to traveling outside of my own kingdom," Loki replies cooly, lying as usual whenever he begins to feel a little too out of his depth. And after what had just happened - to the Midgardian's - and after all that he'd heard, he can't help but feel that way, "Though," He pauses, looking over the other Prince and raising an eyebrow at the bright red of his shirt, the rose petals curling at the hem, "I suppose that you'd not know much about that, would you."

He's sneered at, "With good reason, actually, have you seen half the stuff out there?"

"Have _you_?"

Tony's expression falters before merging into a glare. Loki pushes past him, but - "So you're just going to leave me here then? After my mother risked her life to save yours?"

Risked her - " If we go back to your castle, we'll be sent into a dungeon before we even manage to do anything to help her."

"Then why the hell did you kidnap me, if you haven't even got an idea of what to do to help her?"

Loki grit his teeth, "Kidnap you? I saved your miserable little _life_!"

Tony rolls his eyes, his wings curled down and pressed flat to his back, still so soaked from whatever it had been that they'd fallen into before, "Yeah, I was so helpless that I just really needed your help with only _getting us lost out here while Stane tries to take over my home and kill my Mom_!"

Alright. So maybe he feels just a little sorry for him right now, and yes, if that were his Mother in there and his kingdom he'd be reacting the same. But he hasn't time for this. He needs to warn his mother, and he needs the casket. If he can somehow get around Stane's men, he could sneak inside, grab it from the Prince's room and - Oh. The _Prince’s_ room. "If we had stayed there, we would both be dead right now."

"Well how is this any better? We're outside. We're in the _World_." If he listens closely, that might even be some fear that he can hear, amidst all that anger. Perhaps he's right then, in his assumption that Midgardian's have never ventured much out of their own kingdom before.

"I have been out before," Loki assures him, "I know this place far better than you and with me, you can - " They both pause at the slight shake of the ground beneath them. Tony edges closer, staring down at it.

"Fine. Say you are an expert, then." He says slowly, "What was that?"

Loki bites his lip, toeing at the mud briefly, before turning away, "We should get out of here." Tony joins him, surprisingly, when he walks, but that must only be because he'd rather not stand where the ground is seemingly shaking because he grabs at his wrist when they're only a few feet away from that spot.

"Look. I know you're not from my Kingdom, but you said before that you needed something. That you were looking for something." Loki sighs, tugging his arm out of the light grip on it and nodding, "Okay. So, if I help you to get it, you'll owe me. Right?" Loki blinks slowly, and clearly, that ends the last of Tony's patience, "Look, my Mom's in there, alright! On her own and hurt and in danger, and I need help. Will you help me get it, or not?"

Loki chews on the inside of his cheek, thinking. The casket comes first, before anything else right now, in his mind. Then, what's next in line, is relaying Stane's plan to his mother and brothers, and informing them of what to expect should anything happen to them due to it. Tony's problem, the loss of his kingdom and Mother, is a secondary issue for Loki right now but -

But there's no harm in allowing him audience with his Mother, is there? Well. Actually there is, he shouldn’t even be thinking of promising that but -

There's a slight rumble under the ground yet again and the both of them stare at each other.

"Um." Tony steps backward, away from the sound and the vibrations beneath him, "What is it following us now, or - ?" Loki shakes his head at him, and - Wait. That sound. He knows that sound, he's heard it before, once. Just after a raid right outside the -

"Move!" He shouts to Tony but it's too late. Only a second after he's spoken, the ground opens under Tony and he's propelled into the air by the creature that suddenly decides to surface next. Tony's shout of both surprise and fear is muffled by the groan of the earth as it's forced to crumble around the worm's substantial body.

Once it bends to survey it's surroundings, Loki reaches for his sword, only to remember with a grimace that he doesn't have it anymore. Seeing another creature, however, must be what sends it back because the worm slowly slides it’s way into it's burrowed home without doing much else to anything. Once it begins to crawl down, Tony falls off of it's head with a cry.

Loki takes a step back, automatically reaching out to catch him, and the both of them fall backward into the mud.

"... ow."

Loki lies there, breathing heavily and slow in the brief adrenaline rush that he'd gained from seeing something so different to what he's used to.

"Ugh," Tony shakes the mud out of his hair, making a face before looking over his shoulder, "What was that thing?"

Loki's head, still soaked from before, squelches in the mud when Tony shifts over him, "A worm." He answers, thinking back to all of the books back at Jotenheimr, "They're rather common in the outside world."

Tony groans, lowering his head onto Loki's chest and sighing. It's a while before he looks up and realises what he's doing, but instead of apologizing - as he really _should_ \- he simply smiles at the frown on Loki’s face and says, "You know ... you're actually a little cute. For a kidnapper."

"Mm." Loki hums noncommittally, shoving him off and rolling to his feet, abruptly changing the subject, "Well. As I said before, we should get out of here now." Tony stands as well, dusting himself off and frowning down at the dirt and mud over his "fancy" clothes.

"Yeah," He says slowly, "Preferably _before_ something like that worm comes along again."

Loki rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair and grimacing when it comes away a sticky brown, "There are so much more, and worse, things out here, believe me. Worms are large, yes, but harmless compared to others." He continues as he walks, trying not to protest the fact that Tony follows him as well - if only to get away from the new hole in the ground - because before, as he'd been thinking, he'll need him to get the casket back anyway. Besides. The boy might not be such a huge nuisance, once he gets the hang of life outside here. "We were lucky it was only that."

"Yeah, I know, I've studied some of the stuff before. Humans, Cats, Dogs, Cars and Children. The five Dangers." Well. That's rather new. For Loki. The Midgardian way of teaching must be more mundane than Jotenheimr's. He's been taught to defend and fight from a young age, due to the Savages and the insects around their home. Perhaps the Midgardian's have much more calmer lives, "My father wanted to make sure that I knew what to expect and what to look out for but, well - after he died, his lessons weren't exactly finished and my Mom was a little too, uh, protective with me," Is there a point to all this, or does he simply like the sound of his own voice? "Which is why the worm surprised me so much, I guess. I've never actually been out and - "

Loki pushes aside a blade of grass, allowing Tony to pass him first before letting it snap back into place, "Or you were simply frightened."

"Surprised."

Loki smiles, leading them both back around. Stane's carts are still in place, as far as they could see, and the chute hadn't led them down anywhere too far. He supposes it's just luck that they aren't being searched for, or perhaps, because they'd probably assumed that he's either a rogue Jotun or simply a servant and no one important, they aren’t going to bother searching. He feels his chest lighten from all the worry. He loves it when he's underestimated.

"So what else is there, then?" He blinks, looking over his shoulder at Tony, "I mean, obviously, there's a lot that I don't know about ‘outside’. Like - I've studied, but most of it was about the humans and not - "

"There are many things out here, I couldn't name them all." Loki interrupts, ducking under twin blades, and -

And promptly freezing.

His hands clench over the grass and he slowly feels it’s dew slide down his wrists all the way to elbow, but ... that's really the least of his problems right now.

"Ah." Well, this is problematic.

The spider has already seen him, it seems, as it bares it's pincers when Loki speaks; it's breath rattling as it takes a step back, and still, behind him, Tony continues to talk. Oblivious.

"Yeah, but, like what? You couldn’t just tell me about one or two, could you? Just so I know what to expect."

“Well,” Loki takes a step back. "There are spiders … for one." He answers, his eyes wide.

"Uh huh? And what do they look like? Long and slimy, like that worm, or - "

"I would advise," Loki says slowly, his shoulder hitting Tony's now and, finally, he looks up from whatever it is that he's doing with his shirt, "That you look up." The spider's taken a step toward them now and it's then that Tony grows rigid beside him at the sight of it. It's huge, the hairs on it’s body black in color and each of it's eight eyes fixes on them just as it hisses.

A web that forms between it's two front legs has already balled up, ready to lash out and ensnare the both of them.

"Run." Loki says out of the corner of his mouth.

“What?”

“Run!” He says, louder now, before turning around himself, " _Now_!"

Tony doesn't need to be asked twice and he skids, grabbing a hold of Loki's bicep and dragging him along before he then pushes him out in front - sprinting as fast as he can. The ground shakes as the spider scuttles after them, too fast for something so big, and Loki ducks with a shout when one of it's legs stabs through the stem of a flower just next to him.

"Fly!" Tony screams behind him, skidding over the ground and looking over his shoulder at it, "Go on, _fly_!"

Loki panics, breathing heavily, "I - " Can’t.

"Come _on_ , your wings didn't get wet, they're under your clothes, so _go_!" Is that what he thinks, is that - ? He can't fly, there must be something, must be something else that he can do, some spell or some - some. His mind has gone blank, completely blank, he can't even - "FLY!"

"I can't!" He snarls over his shoulder, his eyes widening when the spider shrieks now, catching up, "I - "

"This isn't exactly the best time to be petty, or anything, you know!" Tony snarls back, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggles to make his own damp wings flutter at least but nothing happens. They pass a puddle of water as they sprint and Loki digs his heels into the ground, spinning them both to the left, "What are you doing, you idiot, it's right behin - !"

With a growl, Loki lifts Tony by the waist and throws him head first into the water. He staggers back at the force, snapping his head around when four of the spider's legs land just by his feet, knocking him down. He rolls quickly, lashing out at another leg that threatens to pin him down and landing in the water hard, sucking in a breath before diving under.

The spider shrieks again, backing away, unable to swim, and after around a minute, it stomps each of it's eight legs and climbs over the grass to find another creature to eat. Tony is panting beside him when he resurfaces, his brown eyes bright and wide, "They - they can't swim?" Loki shakes head, not trusting his voice, "Okay. Uh, a little - a little warning, though, would be nice. Next time." And again. No thank you, at all. Why is he even bothering with - "Thanks, by the way."

Never mind.

Loki swallows, pushing strands of hair out of his face and turning to speak when his face is suddenly cupped tight by two, small hands and Tony's lips are pressed to his. Um. The kiss is short, slow, and Tony beams at him when he pulls away. It's a few, long seconds before Loki remembers how to speak, and that's just a little embarrassing, isn't it. So he'd rather not focus on that - not exactly one of his best moments, it - "Is that," He clears his throat, clambering out of the puddle, "Is that the Midgardian way of thanking someone, then?"

Tony's smile widens into a grin, following him out, "No.” He says brightly, “Just the Tony Stark way."

Well then. Loki gives him a look. And then, because he has only just left his adolescent years himself, he decides to say in reply: "Then you owe me at least two of those, I believe. I saved your life before, as well, remember." Tony, surprisingly, laughs.

And Loki understands now. Flirting. Being constantly seen as only some sort of freak of nature back home, he's never actually experienced it himself.

"That's still debatable, I didn't actually need saving." The mood abruptly sobers at that, however, at the reminder of what had happened and Tony clasps his hands together, "So. Um. About the help-thing. Will you - ?"

Loki combs his hair down with his fingers, shivering when a breeze picks up, "Get me into that castle, and into your room - _and_ back out again - without being caught, and I'll give you all the help that I can."

Tony looks over him, biting his lip and looking past the grass toward the direction of his home.

Loki knows he's asking for a lot, knows that he's asking that Tony risks his life for him, but he's given him a choice. All the needs to do is agree and then they can -

"Deal."

.

~ 

.

Tony presses against him from where they're crouched. It's just that slightly bit distracting, and though he knows that he should focus, though he knows that there are lives and homes at stake here - not to mention his own reputation - he tells himself that if Tony asks why his hands are at his hip, he'll tell him that it's for balance only.

As it is, he's not asked yet and, instead, seems either to be shifting like that purposefully, or to be completely oblivious to Loki's less-than-innocent grip on his body.

"There." He whispers and Loki blinks, listening now, "That's how I sneak in past the guards, after curfew. There's a changeover in a few minutes, unless Stane's changed it all already." Loki leans closer.

"I thought you've never ventured out."

"I've not. Well - I have, but not that far. Just to the edge and never into the grass." A guard walks past over them on the wall, and Tony takes Loki's hand, tugging him down the path, "Alright. Here we go." They creep past the wall, their backs against it and their hands clenched so tight that when Tony ducks into a small grate at the edge, Loki's pulled along as well. The grate slides back into place and Tony curls his wings in, making a face when they're still pressed flat to his skin from being so wet, "This way." His whisper echoes so, needlessly really, he presses a finger to his lips and crawls.

Loki lets go of his hand and lets him pass to lead the way, crawling on behind him. Voices sound under them not long after and Tony pauses to adjust another grate, listening automatically. Loki frowns, pressing his ear against the wall to the tunnel they're pressed inside.

" - didn't think he was important, sir, he didn't look like much to - "

"That's obviously what they wanted us to think. After all, why would the Jotuns send us their eldest Prince, is doesn't make sense - "

"But, if he came here for the casket, then why hasn't he got it? He left without it."

"He may be bringing some more of his kind, be on the watch - and _guard_ that thing. Under no circumstances is he to take it. This war is happening, and no heir to the throne is going to stop it. Stark or that Jotun."

The grate scrapes across as Tony pulls it out and they both cringe but the voices move away anyway, and they continue on. When the tunnel gets a little steeper, Tony finally kicks at yet another grate and climbs out and down when it falls out of place. He dangles for a little bit, obviously used to flying his way into his room, so Loki takes his hand and helps to gently lower him onto his bed.

He jumps down himself, wincing when his feet slap the ground hard, and gritting his teeth against the pain of it for a few brief seconds before joining Tony at the pedestal in the corner.

"Some guarding." He scoffs, skimming a hand over the casket and looking over at Loki, "This what you're after, your highness?"

Loki gives him a look, "I would have told you."

Tony laughs softly, "No, I didn't mean - Look, I don't care, you don't _owe_ me any information about yourself. I don't even know your name."

"Loki." He answers, slowly reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the casket's handle. In it's light, his blue skin looks almost luminous, and Tony's eyes are lit dramatically. It's not an off-putting sight. "My name is Loki."

"And I'm Tony." Tony says with a grin, "But - you know that already, don't you." He puts his hands into the pockets of his shirt, the petals on it curling in their rot - ruined from all that had happened, "So. This is what Stane took from your home, then. To start a War between our Kingdoms."

Loki nods, closing his eyes and sweeping a hand over the surface of the casket, whispering a spell until it shimmers and shrinks, letting him put it into his sack, "Is there a purpose to his need for this, or is he merely sadistic?"

Tony runs his hand over the books in the corner, looking around his room. Clearly, there must be things of his missing, as his face takes on an almost forlorn look as he does, "Bit of both, I guess. Stane's our weapons man, our protector. I - I make these inventions and stuff, to help protect the villages and outlying people, you know? And, Stane's the one who distributes them out and keeps our kingdom safe. While my Mom rules it and I just - train to." He sighs, bitterly, clenching his fists, "Guess I know why so much of my stuff went missing all the time now, then." He scoffs, "God, I'm so fucking naive." He shakes his head in disgust, looking out the window, and then back at Loki as though just remembering that he was there as well.

He blinks. "Uh. We should probably get outta here."

Right. Of course. Anyone could be on their way here, they've wasted enough time. Loki ties his sack back up, tightening the string and turning to bend and lift Tony up into the tunnel again when -

"You probably should have left a while ago, Tony." There's a clatter from behind him just before Stane finishes speaking and Tony whirls around, flinging the book that he'd grabbed at the man in question. It hits, at least, but that's only after Stane presses the bud of a red-tinged flower into his mouth. Tony chokes, trying to spit it out but a hand is pressed to his mouth and he swallows, shoving Stane back and colliding with the bed hard; falling onto his back over the woven sheets.

Loki takes a step forward to help but the doors open now and more soldiered men file inside. And he hasn't even a sword anymore. He curses, looking around for something to use, for something to fight with, but - he cries out when the back of his neck is hit and he staggers, falling to his knees. His shoulders are held tight and a sword is pressed just under his neck when he attempts to struggle.

Tony still lies on the bed, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He's not moving and - that, alone - seems to absolutely terrify him.

"Curatis," Stane explains with a smile, gesturing to the remainder of the bud that he'd forced down Tony's throat, sitting beside the Prince and laying a hand over the hem of his shirt. Loki grits his teeth, watching. Everything about this man actually seems to just _scream_ traitor - he's surprised that no one in this realm has even noticed anything being wrong with him. But then again - all good liars ...

His chest tightens and he swallows against the knife at his throat.

"Always good for short-term paralysis." Stane continues, looking for all the world as though he were explaining what he'd eaten for lunch today, rather than how to render his Prince paralyzed.

Tony's hands twitch over the bed and he slides his eyes along to meet Loki's - seeking reassurance, probably - from _him_ of all people? But there it is. Perhaps, however, in this situation, a stranger is what he needs. After all, if almost everyone that he has ever known has proven to be false-hearted then who to trust but a stranger -

"Oh, Tony," Stane sighs, so regretfully that it almost seems real. Loki is jerked back when he tenses and he bites his cheek as the sword cuts a line over his collarbone, "You really should have stayed away from here. You weren't important in this, you wouldn't have mattered."

Loki tightens his hand over his sack, narrowing his eyes, "But," He sighs again, "Now, with the company you keep. Well. I've got to do something about you now, haven't I."

"You'll leave him alone, is what you'll do."

The fact that he'd spoken at all hasn't even crossed his mind until he realizes that they're all looking at him. He hadn't meant to, he'd - Tony's nothing to him, not really, and he has the casket now, if he'd kept his mouth shut he might even have been able to -

No. Laufey hadn't taught him that way, and selfish he may be, he won't abandon Tony after this. This was his doing. If they had just left, just as Stane is saying now, and had ignored his fear of returning without the casket, then help would probably be on the way already.

"Protective, your new friend is, isn't he." Stane smiles at Loki, making his skin crawl, "Shame it'll be your fault that he's dead." Tony's breath hitches and he tries to blink, "Course, we'll need a scapegoat anyway, so maybe it's best that you came back. If we're going to get his Mother to wage War on us, we need a death. And then, the _whole_ Jotun army'll want your head." Tony makes a noise in the back of his throat, clearly meant to be some sort of threat or promise, but all that comes out is barely a whimper, "We'll give you a sword at least, don't worry."

"My Mother isn't that foolish." Loki argues, gritting his teeth when his head is pulled up by his hair, "She'll suspect that something isn't right."

Stane sneers at him, "Your Mother is a _Mother_. She'll be too grief-stricken with you to even bother thinking properly." Laufey had fought an entire battle just after her husband had been declared dead. Stane, clearly, knows nothing about women, "But anyway, to get to the point." He turns back to Tony, leaning down and watching as his chest rose and fell too slowly, "We've got to make sure, now haven't we. That you don't go off anywhere before the War's here." A soldier steps forward. Hands Stane some sort of rectangular device. Tony tenses, obviously recognizing it - perhaps it's one of his own creations.

Loki's panting now, he can hear himself, and over whatever is about to happen, he suddenly can't contain his anger about it. He's a _boy_ , can't be more than a year younger than Loki, but with how they're treating him - Soldiers who have likely vowed to defend him to their death are here, preparing and planning his _death_ -

He growls past his teeth, the Jotun side of him showing itself now, and his magic inside builds alongside it.

All he needs is a spell.

"Hold still now," Stane pushes Tony's shirt up, baring his chest and holding the device up high. Tony's breathing is quickening, his eyes glazing and wide, darting everywhere in fear.

Think, _think_. A spell - he must have learnt something useful before, he must have at least _one_ -

Stane's hand drives down and Tony hisses out to try and stop him but the device plunges into his chest nevertheless. He lets out a sound so like a choked scream or sob that it sends chills down Loki's spine, just as blood begins to flow from the wound that it'd created.

No.

Tony does whimper now, loud, high, in pain, and Stane _twists_ the device inside him before yanking it out. Tony's entire body shakes over the bed, trembling, and Loki's nails are cutting into the skin of his palms.

Too late. He's too late. He's witnessing the death of someone, someone that he knows, someone that does not deserve a death like this - Tony had risked his life for a stranger, Tony's an innocent -

And -

Oh.

Apparently then, when emotion has clouded all thought and rational decision, magic then takes a hold itself.

The soldier standing just behind Loki blasts backward in a blur of green, making the rest of them surge to the side in shock and Loki's on his feet in a second, his hand grabbing the sword just as it falls, spinning around and cutting the head off of the nearest man that he can see. Stane snaps his head up, shouts out an order, but Loki doesn't focus on him and instead, propels himself over the bed to land beside Tony's body. Slowly, as gently as he can, he bends to lift him into his arms.

His wings are soft against his skin, his eyes are sliding shut. Blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth.

Stane flies to his feet, his jagged wings pushing out past the folds of his clothes where he must have kept them down before, and the sickly brown of them perfectly suits the traitorous blood of him so well that Loki almost leaves them alone. As it is, he hasn't the time to think on the poetry or the irony, and he drives the sword straight through one of it's bulging nerves. Stane barks out a cry of pain, lashing out in reflex and knocking Loki in the side before falling against the table. Winded, Loki climbs over the windowsill quickly, trying to keep a tight hold over Tony and jumping out before anyone can grab him.

Which, seeing as he can't fly at all, is sort of a bad idea.

Before he can begin to panic on the way down a banner flutters beside him, the name Stark written in gold over it's material, and he grabs a hold of it with his one free hand, using it to help him slide safely to the ground and sprinting away before anyone can follow him. He sheathes the sword quickly, ducking past the grass and hoping against hope that no Spider or Worm finds him.

.

~ 

.

Tony's face is pale against the light of the moon and, though Loki has already shed his jacket to drape it over him, he's as cold as ice. The sun had been setting when Loki had finally stopped somewhere far from the castle, hidden in the grass. Soldiers had come running past twice but it was all quiet now.

He presses a hand to the wound, ignoring the blood seeping out from between his fingers and ignoring the urge to just leave Tony here alone and to run with the casket anyway. Because, that may be logical way of thinking, but -

He sighs, sitting back and looking up at the sky.

From what he can see, from what Stane has done to him, the wound in Tony's chest derives from the fact that there are now a dozen small, deadly thorns seeping into his skin.

Penetrated just near his heart and slowly killing him.

Loki bites his lip, shuffling backward until he can lean over Tony easier, and in the back of his mind he thanks Býleistr for asking him why he didn't learn healing spells first of all, and then ensuring that he did.

Placing his hands over Tony's chest, he shuts his eyes, trying hard to focus on each shallow breath of his ( _don't panic now_ ). He won't be responsible for being an instigator in someone's death. Not after promising before, all those years ago, to his father that he'd do anything in his _power_ to help a -

He leans forward, murmuring the spell that he'd memorized two years ago softly. He has to try it five times, however, even before he can gradually feel the warmth of the blood there retreating.

Tony moans, twitching his face to the side and it's with baited breath that Loki watches as his breathing gradually becomes something of a much more normal rate. He sits back, feeling down a blade of grass for some dew to clean the blood off of his hands and sighing.

Tony moans again, his face still pale, but he's now no longer in any danger at least. Loki watches him for a little while longer before turning to the sack, opening it and carefully easing out the casket. He doesn't let it grow to it's usual size, just in case someone comes his way and sees it's glow, but he does stare at it for longer than maybe he should.

It's mesmerizing, in a way, to know that so much of his Kingdom relies on such a fragile-looking box. And so beautiful a box, too. The swirls of blue curl against each other inside and it's cold to the touch.

Loki gently places it back inside the sack and slides it under him from where he's leaning against the blade of grass; ensuring that no one will be able to take it without waking him.

He falls asleep with his hand clenched around the handle of the sword he'd stolen, just in case.

.

~ 

.

Loki wakes with a start, unsheathing his sword and lurching forward quickly to attack -

Nothing.

He shut his eyes, groaning and sliding a hand down his face. It's still night and the stars have lit the sky enough that he can see Tony's face just near to where he's lying.

He's awake. Staring at him.

Loki stares back, a little baffled, but then he notices the slight shimmer to Tony's eyes, the water in them that he's trying hard to hide, and the hand that's clenched over his chest.

Ah.

"... what did you do to me?" He whispers. Loki stands, walking toward him and crouching just by his thighs. Just under Tony's hand is a blue-tinged symbol, surrounded and filled with numerous circles and embedded into his skin. The mark of a healing spell.

"I healed you." Loki whispers back, into the dark, meet Tony's gaze, "You were dying." He skims a finger over the edge of the symbol, before tugging Tony's shirt down for him, "Best not to touch it yet, it will be sensitive for a few days."

Tony lowers his gaze, blinking twice, "Is it permanent?" Loki doesn't answer and Tony shuts his eyes, "Oh." There's a brief moment of silence between them. Tense. Solemn. "Did he take what you were after, then? Did he take the, um, the - " He makes a face.

"The casket?" Loki asks, pulling said sack forward, "No. He didn't even attempt to, he - _you_ held all of his attention, not me."

"Lucky me." Tony drawls bitterly, sitting up with a wince before laying back down when it obviously feels too painful to do so, "My Mother ... ?" 

He shakes his head, "I didn't see her."

Tony nods, looking away, "Didn't - think you would." He grits his teeth, his hand automatically coming to touch his newly-healed wound, but Loki catches it by the wrist before he can, keeping it pressed down over the ground, "Where are we?"

"On the way to my Kingdom." Tony looks at him. "I did promise to get you help, did I not." The way Tony's face lights up does things to Loki's stomach and he twists it back down, turning away. If Helblindi were here, he'd likely comment on Loki being soft. And he is being so. Too soft.

"Yeah. You did." Tony murmurs, still looking at him that way, before abruptly tugging on the hand that Loki still has in his grip, "C'mere." Loki turns to him, raising an eyebrow. Tony smiles at him, gesturing, "Well, this symbol. The one that you made on my chest. That means that you just saved my life, doesn't it?" It takes only a few seconds to understand just what he's saying, and then despite himself, Loki's smiling back - leaning down and pressing his lips to his for a second time. Tony leans up, kissing him back with ease and, though it isn't exactly Loki's first kiss, it sends the same sort of thrill down his spine that that certain one had.

Tony curls a hand in Loki's hair, tugging him closer and Loki indulges, at least for a bit, before trying to pull away. Tony clings however, and it's when Loki sees the whites of his knuckles as they clench over nothing, that he understands.

He needs someone tonight.

After everything - his mother, Stane, the wound in his chest, a little bit of comfort can go a long way. And for Loki, bewildered and panicked over whatever may be happening back home to his people - without the casket - and at what Stane may be planning for Jotenheimr, he's in need of some himself, even.

And so he leans in again and Tony meets him.

There's a flutter just by his hands, Tony's wings now dry and able to move just a little, though he's still rather weak from blood-loss, and Loki jerks back to avoid touching them and startling him, but then, the hands sliding down his back connect with his empty shoulder blades and - Tony freezes.

Loki lifts his head up, his eyes meeting Tony's. In the dark, the brown is almost black, and they shine in the moonlight as it reflects over his face. Tony blinks; his eyelashes are actually rather long, Loki notices vaguely, and they cast a shadow over his cheekbones. He sighs when Tony doesn't say anything and then slowly, lifts his shirt up, taking Tony’s hands and moving them over his skin - showing him that, yes, there really is nothing there.

Tony's silent at Loki shows him, all the while watching his face carefully. The neatly trimmed beard, just settling into his skin, is as dark as his hair and Loki resists the urge to skim a finger over it, knowing that after this, after Tony realises what he is, he'll not want to touch him. No need to indulge in petty urges, if that is the inevitable rejection -

"What happened?" Tony whispers, his fingers dancing over the area where neck meets back, where there should be a set of wings that he could touch, "Were you attacked?"

Loki begins to pull away, "I was born this way," He says, desperately trying not to be bitter.

Tony looks at him. "So that's why then," He says, letting him move back, "You didn't fly before ... because you couldn't." Loki worries at his lip, trying not to look at Tony's.

He hadn't noticed before, hadn't bothered to really, but now - in the mood that he's in and under the stars - he can't help but realize how (what word would be appropriate?) beautiful the other faerie is.

"But - you can do magic," Tony goes on to say, "You healed me, you said. Without wings, how did you - ?" He doesn't finish and Loki can actually, literally, see the thoughts running through his mind before Tony comes to the obvious conclusion, "You've got human blood in you as well. Haven't you." Loki opens his mouth but he barely even gets a word out before Tony continues, "It's - merged with your genes and changed the makeup of them, increased the chance of some things and lowered the rest, which is why you haven't got wings but why your magic is so advanced and why you're a - "

"Freak." Loki finishes for him, getting a little irritated now, "A half-breed."

Tony blinks, "I - was going more for 'a bit different', actually." He tilts his head, peering at Loki as though looking at him from a new light, "You're not exactly thrumming with good self-esteem are you, big guy."

Loki rolls his tongue over his teeth, looking away, "No." He says curtly, because he doesn't actually know what else to say, other than an insult and he'd rather not begin a fight right now, so - "Goodnight." He turns to stand up but Tony's hand curls around his bicep and keeps him still.

"If my wings are putting you off, just say so and I'll lower them." He says, his eyes wide, earnest, but it's really the hand - his other hand - that twitches over his chest that is actually what stops Loki from moving away. And it's when he stops, that he realises what Tony's just said.

"What?" He asks, blankly, frowning, "I never said - "

"I don't want to flaunt what you don't have." Tony explains, looking a little unsure now - misreading the tension in Loki completely, "I didn't - " He stops, letting go, "No. Never mind." He lowers himself back down, turning onto his side, "Goodnight, then."

Loki stays where he is, staring at him. Tony's wings curl in, either subconsciously, self-consciously, or because he believes that it's what Loki wants him to do. His first assumption, out of everything that he could have thought is wrong, he went for the idea that Loki is _bothered_ by Tony's wings and that he didn't wish to see them.

He doesn't think Loki diseased, or cursed, or -

"If you're going to sit there staring at me, could you at least tell me what you're thinking." Tony mutters into his folded arms, "I know that my ass can attract faeries from near and far, but - "

Loki huffs out a short laugh, even though the jibe isn't even slightly funny, and Tony rolls over to face him, still lying down. His hands are at the wound again, tapping it experimentally, "I told you to leave it alone." He says, warningly, and Tony sighs; dropping the hands and pillowing his head on his arm.

"I'm not good at doing what I'm told." Tony responds immediately, grinning when Loki rolls his eyes at him, "How old are you?" He suddenly asks him, and it's with a start that Loki realises that they don't actually know anything about each other. At all. They both know that they're royalty, that they're to stop Stane before he destroys their kingdoms, and that Loki hasn't any wings and Tony now has a hole in his chest that's filled with magic to keep him alive. Other than that, they're complete strangers.

And yet, Tony had kissed him. Twice now. Is this how he treats strangers, or is Loki simply different?

"Twenty-One," Loki replies, rolling his shoulders back and looking down at Tony, "And you?"

"Fifteen." Tony says with a sigh, and Loki's stomach grows just a little cold in shock - before he detects the lie, "Kidding. I'm nineteen. Well. I'll be Twenty in the morning, so let's just go with that, shall we." His birthday. Had that ceremony then, been for him? Loki sighs. "Okay. Cool. So, I know your age now; what's your favorite color, then?" Loki gives him a look and he laughs at that, before bodily wincing at whatever pain that it causes in his chest. Loki leans over in concern, " _Ow_. Is it meant to do that?"

"I told you." Loki says lightly, white-hot hatred at Stane suddenly building once again, "There'll be pain for a while."

"Yeah." Tony breathes, looking down. And it's with an awful start that Loki sees the tears in his eyes, "There always is."

A wind blows over them and Tony shivers, just as Loki does, and with an inward groan, he gives in and curls beside him - wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close, "Who is he to you?"

"Who?" Tony's head is tucked under his chin. He could lay like this, he thinks - at least until they have to move again.

"Stane."

Tony shifts, not protesting Loki's hold on him at all and, rather, craving it in a way with how close he presses himself, "He's nobody. Or ... he's everything. Pick one." He makes a sound in his throat, his voice growing dark, and then explains some more after a pause, "Stane's - Fuck, he's - he's like my dad. Only not. I guess," He stops, curling a hand over Loki's chest, still bare after having taken his shirt off, "I guess you could say that I'd've trusted him with my life, for _all_ of my life, if he had never done what he'd done today."

Loki doesn't say anything in reply. His fingers find a lock of Tony’s hair and he toys with it for a while, shutting his eyes.

“Why did you heal me?” Tony asks him after a moment of silence, “I kind of think I pissed you off before.”

Loki smiles against his forehead, “You did.” A hand slides over his chest, “But you helped me as well. You almost died because you helped me, and - as irritating as you seem to be,” The hand dips under his chin, skimming over his collarbone, “I couldn’t leave you like that.”

Tony’s eyes are lowered; they’re dark, shadowed in the night, and when he leans forward, Loki looks into them until he has to close his own just as their lips meet.

“Do you treat everyone this way?” Loki asks, huffing out a short laugh as Tony rolls them over, hovering over him and smiling. There’s another wince at the wound in his chest and Loki places a hand over it, sucking the pain into his own wrists until he has to stop. Tony watches him use his magic with a little wonder in his eyes - so different from the way that everyone else back at home looks at him, that Loki finds it difficult to swallow for a bit.

“What? Kissing and stuff? Yeah.” Tony straddles him slowly and Loki lowers his head against the ground, looking up at him, “This? … not so much.” He takes Loki’s hands, placing them on his own hips and Loki squeezes before sliding them up himself to rest at the small of his back. His fingers brush against wings again and he pauses, watching as they flutter at the touch, “Do you mind them?” Tony asks him, his hips rolling only slightly. He’s unsure, worried. Loki’s swallows past a suddenly tight throat, “I could lower them, if you - “

“Use them.” Loki orders, his voice now a little raspy so, self-consciously, he clears his throat, “I don’t mind.” Tony looks at him, tilting his head, “Use them.” His fingers find the wings again and Tony shudders, leaning into the touch. They’re soft, softer than Loki would have thought, and the reddened tinge of it’s pattern merges into a light golden hue that’s so very similar to his mother’s. The red then, Loki assumes, must be from his father.

Tony rolls his hips again, but when he reaches down to tug at his trousers, he winces at the pain that it spikes in his chest. Loki takes his hand then, and moves it aside, sliding his fingers into Tony’s waistband himself this time.

“Will it always hurt?” Tony asks him, voice small and his face just an inch from Loki’s, as he pushes forward to let his clothes fall away, “The mark on my heart?”

Loki lowers his eyes, shivering as Tony’s wings beat against his knees when he curls them in, “Maybe.” He says softly, “I have only ever seen the spell in books, never in practice. I don’t know what the consequences are.” Tony’s breath hitches when Loki’s hands find his skin, “But I do know, that _not_ touching it will help.”

With a guilty smile, Tony removes the hand that had been, yet again, crawling up to touch it. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

Loki lifts his hips up, jostling Tony over him until he has to brace himself with his arms over the ground, and pulling his own trousers down. Feeling utterly inexperienced in doing this with someone that actually _wants_ to, he swallows; looking down.

Tony flaps his wings again, hovering just an inch in the air, before settling over Loki when he’s a little more comfortable. His skin isn’t as dark or as blue as Loki’s and it contrasts when he leans forward - sensing Loki’s nervousness and kissing it away.

But then, when Tony’s hand creeps toward his wound again, the nerves go and Loki simply takes it and places it over something a little more useful.

Tony meets his gaze, surprised, and at Loki’s smirk he begins to knead. “We probably shouldn’t be doing this, huh.”

Loki groans, looking up at the stars just as Tony makes them explode behind his lids, “Why?” He asks, his voice deepening in his lust just as his cheeks begin to warm, “Night is not the best time to travel. What else is there to do?” He flushes even more when he realises just how ‘casual’ he had made that sound but, oddly, Tony laughs at it - hushed and soft, burying his face into Loki’s neck as his shoulders shake.

“Alright then.” He whispers, his hand squeezing now as it slowly pumps. Loki moves to roll them again, but Tony keeps him still simply by bracketing his legs around his hips, “No, wait. Let me.” Loki raises an eyebrow at him, “You saved me, let me repay you by doing the work. Relax.” Taking one of his hands into both of his own, Tony moves Loki’s fingers carefully, hovering again with the use of his wings to let one of them push inside him.

He hisses and it’s then that Loki thinks, perhaps, he should help. Shutting his eyes, he attempts to recall the shortened spells of oil or lubricant, to let it coat over his fingers and cock, but at the half-yelp, half-giggle from Tony just after he utters one, he guesses that maybe he’s cast the _wrong_ one.

He opens his eyes and Tony glares half-heartedly at him from above, “Thanks for the spray of water,” He says dryly, though there’s still a smile playing on his lips, “Don’t think I’ve ever had that shot _up_ me before.” Loki presses his lips together, but the snort that he’d tried to repress still shoots out, and Tony grins at him, “Hey look at that. So, you _can_ laugh.” Loki sucks in a breath, ready to either insult or tease him back, when Tony abruptly lowers his head down to rest on his chest. Hm. “Well. That kinda killed the hot-and-heavy mood, didn’t it.” He’s still laughing, Loki notices, and he smiles himself, almost wanting to apologize for the water but instead, he decides to curl the finger that’s still pressed inside him. Just enough to make his head snap back up.

Tony looks at him, and this time - instead of calling for a jetson of water - Loki recalls the spell easily and a second finger slides inside as well. That earns him a moan now, and again he tries to roll them over but Tony pins him in place, fluttering his wings until he can rise and then lower himself on Loki’s fingers from the position that they’re both in.

Tony’s breath catches in his throat, and Loki’s eyes darken as he watches. They’re strangers, he thinks, but then - they’re not. Not really.

Tony catches Loki’s bottom lip between his teeth, finding Loki’s fingers with his hand and pushing one of his own in beside them, “It hasn’t been a while, for me, you know,” He whispers, their breaths mingling, “I’d get bored with studying at home, so I’d find someone, and … ” He trails off, pushing back on the fingers. Loki doesn’t answer, especially as he doesn’t exactly share the sentiment, and instead he watches as Tony flutters his wings just enough to lift his body over Loki’s before lowering himself again.

And then, when he moves from fingers to cock, he keeps up with that same rhythm, using his wings to help him rise and fall; riding Loki whilst using them. It’s then that Loki remembers that he had _told_ him to use them, and he meets each thrust in retaliation to the fact that Tony is doing so - just not exactly in the way that Loki had imagined him to.

Still, Loki thinks, just as he groans when Tony lowers himself even further - pushing past walls and letting Loki bury himself inside - this could work just as well.

Tony’s eyes are lidded now, his face flushed and his wings begin to beat all the more faster when he picks up the pace. His hands and mouth find Loki’s chest; they slide over it, teasing pinching and licking, and he cries out around a nipple when Loki slams into him from below - in revenge.

They start slow, sliding together in unison, before pressing into each other harder, faster -

Tony’s lips meet his again and Loki rolls his hips up into him.

His fingers find the wings once more and he skims over them, having read before in books about just how sensitive they can be. Tony keens at the touch, his face flushing darker, and he shudders over Loki, tightening his thighs around him and beating his wings harder until Loki actually chokes from the pleasure building inside him.

He slides a hand away from the wings, keeping one tapping against them as they flutter, and curls a hand around Tony’s cock instead. He kneads, just as Tony had done so before, and squeezes just enough that he moans again, “ _Loki_.” He’s still whispering, as though some part of him is afraid that Stane’s men will find them here, defenseless. But they’re far away now, hidden enough, and no faerie would be foolish enough to venture out in the night. He tries to tell him this, to reassure him, but then Tony grinds his hips even more, taking more of Loki in as if it were even possible to still be able to do so, and all thoughts are erased from Loki’s mind in a blur of grey.

The color of Tony’s wings catches in the moonlight and Loki stares, mesmerised. He thrusts up once, twice, before spilling himself inside him, painting Tony white. Tony’s breath stutters, his wings curling in just as his toes follow in suit and Loki slides his fingers over him faster now, pressing his lips against Tony’s when he utters a curse at his own orgasm. He then falls forward, lying over Loki and humming once under his breath. When Loki finally catches his own breath, he curls a hand over his hair.

Tony slides an arm around his neck and rolls them both onto their side, pressing against Loki much like they had been before. Loki reaches for the soil beside him, soaking in it’s power for his own use to create a blanket of sorts - covering them both with it enough to protect their bare skin from the cold of the night.

Jotun he may be, but he still lives under the sun and his skin is as warm as Tony’s.

Tony hums again, his lashes brushing against Loki’s cheek, and his wings curl into his body as he shuts his eyes, “Thank you.” He murmurs. And, somehow, Loki simply knows that he isn’t talking about the blanket.

.

~ 

.

Loki wakes with Tony’s head burrowed just under his armpit. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to wake the other faerie as gently as he can, but when Tony simply burrows even further into him, he actively shoves him. Tony coughs, snapping his head up and looking at him with a frown, “What?”

“Get dressed.” Loki orders him, groaning when every limb aches as he stands, “We’re leaving in a few minutes.” Tony stands with a yawn, folding his wings out and stretching them just as he bundles the blanket around his waist; reaching for his clothes. They’re as ruined as they were before and he bites his lip, looking over them and shivering when he pulls them over his skin as the juices from the rotting petals slide down over him.

Loki looks at him, his own clothes a little more resilient as they hadn’t exactly been for a celebration. Birthday, he remembers, and he places a hand over the blade of grass near his bag. Slicing through the edge of it with a knife, he rips away a strip and bends it in his hands. Melding with his own strength a spell, he contorts it into a shirt, tugging a collar down from another strip and creating sleeves from the soil - along with some braces from rock.

Tony watches him, his lips parted and his hands clutching the blanket that’s wrapped around him, and when Loki is done, he takes the clothes slowly, smiling at him with a little awe. “A present.” Loki says, clearing his throat and looking down, “You are … twenty, now. Are you not?”

Tony’s smile widens into a grin as he pulls the shirt and trousers on quickly, before fluttering his wings until he’s the same height as Loki to give him a peck of a kiss. He’s gone before Loki can return it. “Thanks.” He looks down at himself, “And, really. As far as gifts go, this is at least useful.” Loki watches as he hums critically, tugging at the sleeves, “Could do with a bit more life, though. But what can you do.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, “And I suppose _you_ could create something from nothing by simply using your head, and at least giving it a bit of color?”

Tony laughs, tilting his head, “Well, as a matter of fact - “ He stops then, suddenly, his smile dropping. Loki frowns, looking at him, about to ask what’s wrong before Tony cries out, “ _Go_!” And beats his wings hard enough to be able to shoot off of the ground at a remarkable speed, fluttering into the grass quickly.

Loki blinks, looking after him and staring, wondering just what he’d -

The gust of breath behind him is exactly the same as it had been on his first night out of Jotenheimr and Loki freezes completely; staring at the bark of a tree before him that he hadn’t actually noticed before instead.

Slowly, Loki turns on the heel of one foot and gingerly looks up at whatever it is that has found him. The cat is around five times his size, white and a little fat, growling in the back of it’s throat as it bares it’s teeth at him. Loki swallows, taking a step back.

The cat’s ears twitch, it’s eyes dilating and it follows Loki’s movements, prowling forward until he’s pressed flat against the tree with nowhere to go. Trapped. He sucks in a gasp, hating himself so much more now that he doesn’t have wings. If he did, he could so easily just -

Two arms suddenly grab him from around the waist, and the next thing he knows is that he’s in the air, holding on for dear life as Tony flies them both around the cat’s head and into the grass. It swipes it’s paw at them and Tony shouts out, turning them both around, “Hold on!”

Loki’s fingers dig into Tony’s arms, his eyes widening, “Oh, I am!”

The wind whips past his eyes, brushes his hair back from his face, and the both of them scream when the cat’s eye is suddenly all that they can see. Tony strains, holding onto Loki and flying them up into the tree instead.

They knock against branches and, eventually, Tony hits one hard enough that they both fall. Loki hits a leaf, sliding down until he grabs it’s stem for hold and Tony catches himself with his wings, hovering just beside Loki.

The cat yowls at them from below, scratching at the bark and though it probably could climb it, it chooses not to and simply walks through the grass slowly; it’s tail up and it’s steps slow. Going to it’s home, perhaps? Maybe. Hopefully.

Tony huffs out a laugh, looking at him, “Sorry,” He says, out of breath, “I had to use my wings before trying to help you. They’re a little stiff after being so wet, all I could do was flutter before.” Loki, similarly out of breath, though he’d barely done anything but hang on, nods and looks down.

“Well. As you can use them properly now, I don’t suppose you could get me down as well, then?” Tony nods once, before flying around and wrapping his arms around Loki’s chest from behind.

“Comfortable?” He says into his ear, before hoisting him up and flying them down, “You know. If I thought I could carry you there the whole way, we’d be there in no time. As it is, I’m not exactly dripping with super strength.” Loki shakes his vague attempt at an explaination off and grabs his bag quickly, thanking everything he even believes in that it had not been taken or lost.

“It doesn’t matter.” He says, walking along. Tony flies just above him as he does, “It took me two days to get here, and it will take another two getting back. We’ve only gone the quarter of the journey already, so I suggest we get moving.”

“Right.” Tony drops down, walking beside him and taking Loki’s arm, “Two days to your kingdom.” Loki glances at him, “Is it big, then?”

“More or less.”

“As big as mine?”

Loki smiles at that, “Much bigger, Tony. Compared to other kingdoms, yours is rather small. Not much of a comparison really.” Tony gives him a look, “No offense meant, you can always expand it when _you_ are king.”

Tony looks down at that, “Yeah, well. That might come sooner than I used to think it would.”

Loki looks at him, sighing, “From what I saw of your mother,” He says, slowly, “She looked a strong woman. I’m sure she’ll be alright.”

“You saw Stane.” Tony snaps, “He said he - ”

“Needed her.” Loki points out, “He’ll not kill her. You’ve still time.”

“He said he needed me for a bit there too,” He looks down at his chest, “And look what he did to me.”

Loki frowns but, before he can even say anything else, a crack just to their left makes them both freeze. Tony lifts his wings quickly, readying himself for flight, “What is it?”

Loki finds the sword that he’d stolen, sliding it out of his scabbard. “Stay here.”

“Uh, _nope_.” Tony snorts, flying up until he can look over the grass to see what it is, “Don’t think so.”

Loki takes a step back, looking up at him with a scowl, “What is it, then?” He hisses up to him and Tony shrugs, glancing down at him.

“I can’t see anything odd, it doesn’t look like there’s anyone in the grass, but - _ah_!” Loki blinks sharply at the foot that comes crashing down just beside Tony. The wind that it causes blows him to the side, and the both of them stare up at the human that towers over them.

Damn. So that was who the cat had returned to.

Loki sheathes his sword, heading for the tree and shouting over his shoulder, “Get away from it, it can’t have seen you yet, it’s too high. _Go_!” Tony flutters his wings again with a quick nod, turning to follow Loki but another foot comes down next to him before he can and he screams, blown backward onto the ground.

Before he can get up, the human’s hand - eight times their size - reaches down to grab him, slowly heading toward Tony’s waist as he tries to scramble to his feet.

Loki’s chest heaves as he stands there, thinking, and he braces himself - his magic quickly building up in his hands and he shoots toward the thumb.

It must sting at least, and the human retracts it’s fingers, turning toward Loki now instead. Looking up, Loki can see it’s head; it’s as tanned as Tony is only with dark eyes - eyes that are now fixed upon him.

Tony flies up, darting between it’s trunk size legs to try and grab a hold of Loki to fly them back up another tree but the human’s hand swipes out and catches him before he can. One of his wings twitches between two fingers, helpless, as the hand closes into a _fist_ -

“No - !” Loki looks around, trying to remember spells, trying not to get trampled when the human begins to walk away, peering through it’s fingers at Tony who must be trapped there; squeezed in tight - suffocating.

Loki tries to follow, his sack hitting the back of his legs as he runs but he’s out of breath before the human even makes it through two full steps, “Stop!” He shouts, desperately trying to get it’s attention, “Wait, you - !” The human stops and Loki almost starts with surprise before realising that it’s only because it wanted to have a closer look at the faerie that it has captured in it’s hands.

Humans, Loki remembers, know of faeries but only from books and stories. To see one and capture one is something of a game with human children which is why they are all told to be so careful near a human’s house. And now, not only have they come across an adult one, one of them has been captured by it.

“Oh, you _had_ to be caught, didn’t you.” Loki sighs, looking at the rope tied in a bow atop of the human’s shoe. He takes a hold of it quickly, just before it lifts again as the human begins to walk once more, and he holds on tight - feeling the wind whip past him just as it did when he and Tony had flown before.

He squints, climbing as best he can up over the shoe until he can reach the first inch of skin under the trouser leg. The human stops again when Loki grabs a hold and reaches down to flick him away in irritation. The hand he moves reveals Tony, pressed inside and struggling against the confined walls of it’s palm, and Loki tries to hurtle himself toward it but he falls forward onto one of the human’s fingers instead. The one intent on pushing him away.

He digs his own fingers in, curling his legs around it when he’s shook and just as the human lifts it’s arm to try and throw him instead, he lets go and lands just a little away from Tony.

“Hand!” He chokes, falling backward as he scrambles to get a grip. Tony’s hands are held in the gap between two fingers, so instead, he kicks his leg out until Loki can grab it and use it to pull himself up.

“This is your rescue?” Tony asks him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a look, “You could at least have - “ He gasps, looking up just as a darkness shrouds them and the other hand closes over both of them this time. Loki finds himself pressed over Tony and they stare at each other, “Great. So, now what do we do?”

Loki blinks, his sack digging into him from the angle that he’s in, “I - don’t know, I - no, wait.” His sack! He leans as far back as he can without hitting his head and reaches into it quickly. The casket’s handles are warm but a single touch to the blue itself gives him a chill. He meets Tony’s eyes, “Close your eyes.”

Tony looks at it as curiously as he had before, “What?”

“Close your eyes.” Loki repeats, forcefully, before running his hand over the casket’s surface and holding it just as it grows into it’s true size now. He lifts it, shutting his own eyes and aiming for the same spot that his magic from before had hit. The thumb.

The casket thrums in his hand and the ice that it shoots out sends a wash of cold over him just as the human stops walking for a third time. It shakes it’s hands, letting them go immediately and letting Tony grab Loki by the arms and fly them to safety. He flies them up instead of away, and from there, the both of them can see it clearly now. It’s huge, though it looks just like a Midgardian, and it turns to look up at them, glaring and sucking on it’s thumb.

Tony ducks them both down at the rock that’s thrown at them in revenge for the burn Loki that had given it, and they slowly lower down to the ground when it finally walks away. Tony is panting, out of breath, and now they’re even further from the tree that they had rested at before.

“We’re not - too far from your home now - are we?” Tony asks, reading Loki’s mind.

Loki looks him over, deciding whether he’s hurt or not. Other than a little ruffled, his wings seem to be alright, and he isn’t harmed in any way; just out of breath.

He then turns toward the grass and looks past it all, trying to figure out where they are.

“No,” He decides when he sees the spot that he had slept in before, only to be awoken by those ants, “We will get there.”

.

~ 

.

Tony, it seems, _loves_ to talk when walking. Loki is the complete opposite and, as much as he tries to tolerate it all, he does have to physically put his hand over the younger faerie’s mouth more than once. That earns him a look and unfortunately, gives him the impression that he can continue to do so when the hand is gone; simply to irritate Loki even more.

“ - and it’s not even because Rhodey did the same thing as me, it’s more because my father was stricter than anyone when he was alive and he - ”

“Tony. Please.” Loki lashes out now, rounding on him, “I need to listen out and you are only - ”

“I’m what?” Tony demands, lightly. Clearly fed up of the amount of times Loki has ordered him to quieten. “Trying to tell you more about myself? Trying to start conversation? Because _’heaven forbid’_ if I know more about your cock that you as a person.”

Loki pauses, looking at him, “A night together does not make us lovers, To - ”

Tony’s wings rise and flap once at him, clearly offended, and suddenly he’s very, very angry, “What part of what I just said made you think that, Mr Inexperienced?” So he had noticed, then. Loki feels his cheeks burn just as he glares at him darkly.

“If you’d prefer someone more experienced, then why lie with me?” Tony glares back at him then, “All your cajoling and flirting, you were - ”

Two, twin thuds to their side startle them both and Tony forgets the sudden, brief argument and presses himself against Loki (silent now, thank goodness), his wings rising quickly again, just in case they need to get away.

Loki unsheathes his sword, turning it’s point toward the arched leaf that the sound had come from, “Who’s there?” He demands, his voice low and dark, and Tony hovers now; readying himself for -

“Calm yourself Loki,” Helblindi steps out, flicking at the leaf with the corners of his black wings until it moves enough for him to pass under it, “You wouldn’t want to kill your own brother, now would you.” Loki sighs, keeping the sword up just as Tony lowers himself down beside him.

“And why not?” He drawls, giving him a look, “I could have your room and title when you’re gone.” Helblindi pauses, looking at the sword. And then Loki lowers it, “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, ‘Blindi. I could have killed you.”

Helblindi laughs, kicking at the tip of the sword as it scrapes along the ground, “What, with that little thing? It could hardly kill an ant, let alone a Faerie.” He then frowns, “What happened to the one that I gave to you?”

Loki grimaces, sheathing the sword and sighing, “I … lost it?” He grins at the look Helblindi gives him, “I’ll return it to you, I only - ”

But Helblindi isn’t looking at him anymore and is instead looking at Tony with a leer. Loki follows his gaze, stepping to the side and letting Tony step forward. He’s surprisingly silent all of a sudden, “Forget the sword. It wasn’t as good as others, anyway.” Oh really. “Who’s this creature then, Loki?” He asks after a pause, nodding his head toward Tony who bristles.

Loki rolls his eyes, shaking his head at him, “Anthony Stark, the prince of Midgard.” Tony nods at the formal title, his wings slowly rising for the third time until Loki frowns at him to stop. He stubbornly keeps them half-raised with a sharp look in his direction.

Helblindi smirks at him, “I gather you stole back the casket then.” Loki nods once, tiredly, gesturing toward his sack, “Then is the Prince here for our payment back for what they did to us?”

Tony blinks, looking at Loki, “What - ?”

“No.” Loki says firmly, “He is here to - ”

“Why not?” Helblindi sneers, taking a step toward Tony, “If you are selling him, I would _gladly_ buy a - ” Loki clasps a hand around his wrist, pushing him back forcefully. Helblindi’s wing automatically rise aggressively and he stares at Loki, though he recovers quickly and starts toward him the next second. A blast of magic keeps him at bay and Loki pants when the air rushes out of him after overexerting himself.

Tony takes flight when Helblindi falls just beside him and he stays up until Loki places a foot on his brother’s chest, “Even if he were a War-Prisoner, I would not give him to _you_. He would be dead within a week, or worse.” Helblindi glares up at him, “He is here to seek an audience with our mother. Now get up and take us to her.”

Tony slowly lands just behind Loki, glaring back at the faerie on the ground and not replying to Loki’s order of: “Pay no attention to him. Once he knows why you are here, he’ll leave you alone.”

“Maybe I should _cajole_ him to get on his good side.” Is the scoffed answer.

~

Helblindi leads them into the palace. Many Jotun stop to stare as Tony walks beside them, but he keeps his head up with his face blank and ignores as best he can all of the whispers and accusations of him being a thief.

Evidently, word has gotten out about the casket.

It is only because of Loki and Helblindi’s presence that the guards pass for them to enter the palace walls, though they stop Tony more than once, and just as they enter a child throws a quarter of a nut at his head. He blinks when it hits him and turns to face her with an insult ready on his tongue but Loki drags him inside before he can shout it out.

“Nice people you’ve got here.” He mutters darkly, and Loki makes a face.

“Before I left here, they were told that a Midgardian stole from us. Stole our life-force, even. They don’t know any better, yet.” Tony doesn’t answer yet again and sighs, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Wait here.” Helblindi tells them before turning to a guard. Loki ignores the command and follows him, as does Tony, and eventually Helblindi stops and glares at him, “Loki. _You_ may come but your little Midgardian friend may not.” Tony’s chest heaves, his anger not quite gone yet, and Loki wishes Helblindi would give it all a rest already, “And unless you wish to leave him alone out here … ?”

“I can handle myself.” Tony says curtly, hovering until he’s taller than Helblindi, “Quite a lot, actually.”

Helblindi smirks at him, “Not in Jotenheimr you cannot. Especially not one as petite as you, we have targets to attack after all, and you would be easy if it all comes to it.” Tony opens his mouth to either argue or insult but Loki takes him by the hand and pulls him to the ground before he can.

“A guard here can lead you to a chamber where you can wait until I’ve seen my mother. I will not be long.”

Tony snatches his hand out of his grip, “You know a couple of kisses, and one night together, does not mean you get about telling me what to do.” He snarls, “So you can stop with the looks and orders, already. In case you’ve forgotten, _I’m_ royalty too.”

Helblindi raises an eyebrow, “Kisses?” He echoes, looking at Loki appraisingly. Tony gives him a look of disgust before turning to the same guard before.

“Give me a chamber.” He snaps, “I’ll ‘wait’ there for their _highnesses_.”

The Guard nods slowly, leading Tony down the corridor away from them. Loki watches him go with a frown until Helblindi’s hand on his shoulder draws him from his thoughts.

“Well. He’s a certain fire, I’ll give you that.” Loki ignores him.

Offended and angry he should be at Tony having spoken to him like that, especially in front of his brother, but he can’t help but feel more of his anger being directed toward Helblindi instead.

He doesn’t address it, however, and simply follows him down the other corridor toward his mother’s room.

He does not miss Tony looking back at him over his shoulder before he does.

~

Laufey is no better than before Loki had left but at least a little of her color has returned. Býleistr has clearly been taking care of her.

“Loki.” She greets, her eyes crinkling though she shows no other sign of happiness at his return, “You have come back to us, then.”

He smiles at her, taking out the casket and growing it to it’s full size. It pulses in his hand, almost as though it doesn’t want to leave him yet.

“And with the casket,” Now she smiles, looking at him like the proud mother he’s always wanted her to be. Protective and fierce, loving even, yes. But pride has never really been something that she’s given to him before. His heart swells as he lays the casket down on it’s pedestal - the arguement with Tony already forgotten now. “Well done.”

“I cannot take all of the credit.” Loki says slowly, walking forward and sitting beside her on the bed. She looks at him and Helblindi leaves the room when she gestures him to, “The Midgardian Prince, Anthony Stark, he - assisted me in getting the casket out.” Assisted doesn't sound right, so - “More, he risked his life, actually.”

Laufey looks surprised at his honesty and smiles again, “Well then. Bring him here so that I may thank him. I gather then, that he has betrayed his kingdom for us?”

Loki bites his lip once before turning away from her. “He is here to seek an audience with you, mother. His kingdom was not as at fault, as we thought it was. This was was all the doing of one man instead. A man by the name of Stane.” Her face tightens and Loki pauses, “You know him?”

“No.” She says slowly, “I have heard the name before. Your father - ” She stops, always choosing to never mention Fárbauti if she could help it, but then - “He said before, to me, that the man was a snake, nothing more.” Ah. So it had been the memory of her husband that had caused her to frown, not Stane himself.

“ _Snake_ is correct.” Loki assures her, his own face darkening, and she raises her eyebrows, “Or even, perhaps, Monster.”

She sits up. “Tell me.”

~

Tony Stark kneels at the throne of Laufey as she sits in the court of her palace. So far he has been nothing but respectful and calm, even when Helblindi had needlessly questioned him on his garb simply to bait him into anger.

He has explained everything, has filled every gap and hole that Loki’s side of the same tale has been missing, and Laufey has listened to it all without a word. Loki stands beside Býleistr on the steps beneath her. The two had exchanged a short embrace before - one that Loki had tried to escape whereas his younger brother had clung on (it had only been four days for heaven’s sake!) - and they now stand in their more official clothing at the front of the court.

Loki meets Tony’s eyes as he tells of what happened with his chest and how he was healed. Laufey turns to look at him as well, and Loki ducks his head to stare down at Býleistr’s shoes instead. They’re as gray as his wings are, matching them purposefully just as everyone else’s did.

If Loki had wings, then he would know his color as well. As it is, Laufey had given him the color of his magic instead, on his eleventh birthday, and he has always stood with either green or gold from then on.

When Tony talks of the human, he clearly regrets it when the court loudly accuses them both of sending one toward them but Loki objects and calls out that the human is far from this place and that it had left when Loki had burnt it with the casket.

Laufey raises a hand and all of their commotion stops. Since the return of the casket, her illness seems to have left her gradually and she had spent over half an hour resting her hand on it’s surface before feeling well enough to stand and leave her chamber.

“Thank you, Anthony Stark, for your assistance in gaining my kingdom back it’s casket and in assuring that my eldest son returns.” Tony nods, looking over at Loki again, before flicking his gaze down. “But I do believe that you are here for some other purpose, that you’ve yet to speak of. Am I correct?”

Tony bows his head and nods, biting on his bottom lip and standing. The court stirs but, as Laufey does not seem to mind, he stays as he is and they quieten.

“Stane has my mother, and - and many other officials from my Kingdom. He’s been planning to turn our kingdoms against each other by stealing and lying and watching the explosions rocket away.” His tone darkens, “All while _he_ takes over everything behind our backs.”

“Yes, you have said all of this. We are well warned now.”

“No that’s not - I mean, _yes_ I wanted to warn you. Loki brought me all this way to warn you, yeah, but also to - ” He sighs, looking down and Loki frowns, wondering just why he refuses to simply say it. Does he want his mother to guess or is his pride interfering with him? “I’m here to ask you for help, your highness. In fighting Stane and regaining my kingdom and it’s Queen. I haven’t got anyone now because everyone who could have helped me is now either a traitor, captured or dead. So, please. I’m only asking for your help.”

“You are asking for my army.” Laufey corrects, looking at Loki. He meets her gaze, looking up, and nodding. “To fight your war.”

Wait.

Tony’s nod falters, “No, not exactly. I’m asking for your army yeah, but it _is_ also in your own best interest to fight against Stane because he wants _your_ kingdom too. He’ll not stop at just - ”

“Exactly.” Laufey says coolly, “And if my army were to leave here, then who is to say that Stane will not turn his attention here before they return?”

“Because - ”

We are also under constant attack from the savages and for my army to leave and fight another battle - _that is not even their own_ \- and to not be here when they see us so vulnerable, we will have no protection.”

“But - ”

“No, Anthony Stark. I apologise that my son has assured you that I will, but I cannot help you.” She stands and, with her, so does the court. Loki keeps his expression blank but now, Tony’s is in shatters, “You will be given a room to stay in, indefinitely or until you find elsewhere to stay. And again, thank you for returning the casket to us.”

“Your highness - ”

“Good day, Anthony.”

“Wait!”

She pauses, looking at him and raising an eyebrow.

“He’s going to _kill_ my mother!” Tony shouts at her, taking two steps forward. A guard juts a spear under his chin and he freezes, “Please! I’m only asking for help, not - !”

“You are _dismissed_ , Prince of Midgard. I suggest you take the room I have offered you, before I decide to change my mind and cast you out into the world.”

“ _Mother_.” Loki protests, turning toward her. She pierces him with a dark look, looking away and walking out of the court.

Tony is taken by the arm and lead out as well, though he struggles, and Loki knows that he will be taken back to the same chamber as before. Only with far less hope now.

Loki watches him go, watches the look of hatred that is shot in his direction, the anger and pain vibrating off of the other faerie until he’s out of sight.

He sighs, bitterly, knowing that he has pushed it already with even allowing Tony audience and now has publicly ‘shown’ the people that he can be rash. He slowly walks down the steps to follow the rest of them all out when - 

“I’m sorry.” Býleistr’s wings are low on his back as he joins Loki’s steps down.

“For what?” He scoffs, “Did you tell her to refuse?” Býleistr makes a face at Loki’s anger, as he usually does, before recovering and shaking his head, “It doesn’t matter now anyhow, whether or not Mother will help him, I will.”

Býleistr stares at him. “Mother has refused, you cannot go against her like - ”

“I’ll do what I like.”

Býleistr’s eyes widen and Loki begins to walk away; he still follows, however, and when Loki tries to turn a corner, he slides into his way.

“The Midgardian,” He says curtly, seeing through everything that Loki tries to hide, just like he always does. “Are you and he … ?”

“No.” Loki says bluntly. And then he looks down. “And yes.” He doesn’t quite answer the question properly but it isn’t what Býleistr is asking anyway. The implication is there. That they are all assuming that the ‘Midgardian’ controls him somehow, through his emotions - he’s always been seen as different, weaker even, and now with this ...

“For - how long?” Loki looks at him. He looks a little angry himself now, even, “How long have you two - ?”

“It is not like that, brother, we - only had a night together. There _is_ nothing else.” It sounds strange, and so unlike him, to say something like that. Perhaps, one day, an older him may find it a hobby to do this but the Loki that he is now finds the idea almost appalling. Still. Tony had said to him that he had, before, made it a game of sorts. To simply find someone, lie with them, and then leave again later. He had not mentioned caring for any of them at all.

Loki may simply be another to a list.

“It doesn’t look so simple to me if we’re to look at what happened in court. And if you could see your own face, then you would see that too.” Býleistr says, a smile playing on his lips now. And how has this happened? With Loki now the one being teased, instead of the other way around.

“Then you think wrong.”

“Why? I’ve never seen you like this, tell me what you mean - ”

Loki turns from him, “It’s none of your business brother, leave me.”

Býleistr grabs at his arm, “No. I merely want to stop you from making a mistake. The Midgardian is hardly anything worth your attention, he - ”

“He knows more of anything than you can even hope to learn, and I owe him my life.” Loki growls at him, slowly getting a little defensive now.

Býleistr blinks, scoffing, “Brother, you’ve known each other only a mere _four days_ , why would you _possibly_ want to side with him against your own - ” He points out and Loki rounds on him, cutting him off.

“ _Laufey knew her human for less, and she betrayed her entire family in marrying him!_.” He shouts in his face before instantly regretting it.

A chill runs down his spine just as Býleistr simply stares at him in shock. Loki pants, coming back to himself and shock filling his own face.

“What?” Býleistr murmurs softly. “What did you say?”

And though they are both alone now, Loki still turns to make sure that no one else is listening before grabbing his brother by the arm and shoving him into the nearest room that he sees.

Which happens to be a servant’s quarters. Good. No one will come here yet.

“‘Her’ Human? What do you mean, _’her_ ’ human?” Loki looks away, “ _Loki_. What do you _mean_?”

“Forget it.” Loki snaps, “Forget that I said anything.” Býleistr grasps at his arms, keeping him in place with a sudden surge of strength. Loki slowly looks at him, his face blank, “Býleistr.”

“You will tell me, now, what you meant.” Býleistr snarls at him and when Loki tries to break his hold, he then threatens, “Or else I will mention this to both Mother _and_ ‘Blindi.”

Loki stares at him, “Do that and I’ll - “

“You’ll what?” Býleistr spits and Loki blinks, a little impressed, despite himself, and this show of aggressiveness (finally) in his baby brother.

“I made a promise Býleistr.” He sighs, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Býleistr narrows his eyes, “You break many of those all of the time, why should this one matter.”

“Because it was a promise to father!” Loki snaps, pushing Býleistr back hard enough that his wings have to catch him from falling.

There’s a tense pause between them for a while before Býleistr turns away, “Mother loved a human. Didn’t she.” Loki doesn’t answer, “Before Father.” He glances at Loki then, and suddenly everything is clicking into place, “And that is why you have no wings.”

Loki takes a step toward him, “You tell anyone of this, and I’ll - ”

“Does your Midgardian know?”

Loki stops, “What?”

Býleistr looks at him coolly, “Does. Your Midgardian. Know?” Loki’s face must have given him away because Býleistr laughs dryly, “So you would tell your little lover, but not one of your own brothers?”

“He guessed so.” Loki hisses, cuttingly, “And we are not lovers, we - ”

“Spent the night together, yes, and yet you almost _protested_ to Mother’s ruling over him in open court.” He had, hadn’t he. Damn. “Loki. Why would you never tell us of this?”

“It was not my secret to tell, Býleistr. Think. Father made me promise, as did Mother. They did not want either of you two to know, why would I tell you?”

“ _Because_ \- ” Býleistr starts before cutting himself off and scowling. He then lowers his gaze, answering his own question dully, “Because you shouldn’t have and I cannot fault you for that.”

Exactly. Loki breathes out a sigh, “Good.”

Býleistr looks up at him again, “Though I cannot promise that Helblindi will not feel the same about it.”

Loki clasps a hand on his shoulder, “You will have to promise not to tell him then, won’t you.” Býleistr tries to shrug off his grip though the anger has gone now and he’s back to being the innocent out of them all. “Býleistr.” Loki says warningly.

“Yes, yes. I promise.” He sighs, his wings twitching. Loki squeezes his shoulder once before sliding his hand off and shutting his eyes for a brief second, “How did your Midgardian even guess?” Loki glances at him and almost immediately a red tinge spreads across Býleistr’s cheeks.

“Oh.”

Another pause fills the air between them enough before Býleistr feels the need to burst out another question, one that must have been just behind his teeth all the while, “You said, before, that Mother knew her “human” for less than you and the Midgardian have been together. How long did she?”

“Two days. Three at most.” Loki shrugs, “Not much of a difference really and I shouldn’t have even said it, I was only - ”

“Were you trying to justifying how _you_ feel?” Loki scowls at him and Býleistr takes a step back, his hands raised, “Peace, brother. I only want to know.”

“Why?” Loki demands, before spitting out, “Do you wish to plan for our wedding?”

“ _Will_ there be a wedding?” Býleistr’s wings perk up.

“Býleistr are you purposefully trying to irritate me?” That earns him a laugh but he’s too annoyed now to lighten at it, “He possibly hates me now, anyhow, after what mother said and did.”

Býleistr sobers at that and nods once, worrying over his bottom lip, “Perhaps.” He agrees and Loki’s stomach twists. “You should go and see him.”

“Are you honestly giving me advice on this, brother, because - ”

“ - because you ought to listen. As you said before, Mother knew her human for less and if she had you with him, then she clearly loved him. Perhaps time does not matter with things like this - ”

“I never said I _’loved_ ’ him.” Loki snaps, uncaring of how childish that sounds, “Care for him, maybe, but love? Even, _like_ in that way? That is a whole different matter, I barely know him. And he I.” Býleistr gives him a slow blink.

“Loki you are my brother. I know you better than any and I have seen you be kissed and betrothed and have even seen you run to elope at one point with Amora those three years ago. And now I am telling you to go and see your Midgardian.”

“Tony.” Loki corrects. For some reason.

“Him.” Býleistr nods, smirking at him.

“I have more important things to do, Býleistr.” Loki spits, “Tony is the last on my mind. Mother’s decision still needs to be addressed, as Stane will be coming here now, and - ” Býleistr gives him a look. “No.” Loki says calmly, cutting himself off, “If he wishes to talk, then he’ll come to me.”

Býleistr’s face does not change. Loki’s scowl deepens.

No.

He is not, he will not, be going after Tony. If the other faerie is angry at Loki for simply putting his own honor and family above him and not protesting against the unfairness of his mother, then so be it.

He is not going to apologize for that.

~

Loki slowly lifts his hand with a sigh and formally knocks on Tony’s chamber door; his apology already memorized, embarrassingly enough, and he then waits as patiently as he can for it to be opened.

It is a long wait.

And nothing happens after it.

Placing a hand on the door, he sighs again, louder now, and leans closer to murmur against it, “I’m assuming, then, that you know that it’s me out here.”

No answer.

“Tony.” Loki shuts his eyes, thinking on what would be best to say, “I have ... come to apologize. I - Never in my life have I even done this so willingly, Tony, so please. Open the door.”

There’s still no answer.

Loki frowns, feeling a little irritation build for a bit at that before groaning and turning away. He’s almost toward the end of the corridor again before he hears the click of a handle turning. Looking over his shoulder slowly, he meets Tony’s eyes just as the door opens for him.

Tony’s in the same clothes, though his hair is wet, and at first Loki assumes that he’d bathed during this time but then his wings flutter a little behind his back, and they aren’t wet at all, so -

There’s a dampness by his eyes. A reddened tinge just under them. Ah. He suddenly feels a wave of guilt flush through him.

“You going to come in, or not?” Tony drawls at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek and glaring across the hall. Loki almost nods in answer, but then hesitates for a second - unsure suddenly, of what to say to him; though he’d at first checked it with his brother to: “ _ensure that you’ll not offend or anger him even more_ ”.

“Yes.” He says, finally, stepping forward, “I will.”

Tony turns and walks inside, not bothering to check if Loki follows and he sits on the bed when the door is clicked shut and locked for privacy.

“Apology not accepted.” He says curtly, after a brief moment of silence, before gesturing to the door and saying faux-brightly, “You can go now.”

Loki bristles at that, his own glare coming into effect but he quickly pushes it away; with some effort of course, no one dares to talk to him like that, he should actually just leave here now and forget about -

Alright, so it does take a lot more of an effort to calm himself, then.

He sighs, inwardly. He must really like this faerie, then. Why?

Maybe it was something to do with his Mother’s genes? To fall so deeply, so quickly?

“Go on then.” Tony snaps, “Get lost.”

“No.” Loki snaps back, as curt as the other faerie is, and that’s not exactly what he came here to do but Tony antagonised him first - “I need to discuss something with you.”

“I don’t want to hear your apology.”

“Then don’t hear it. I am not here to speak of that, anyhow.” He’s not? Where has his mind gone? “I - came to discuss my mother, instead.”

Tony gives him a look, “Really.” Loki opens his mouth to continue but - “Alright fine. Discuss away. What about her, do you want to discuss?” Loki looks at him, shutting his mouth and now painfully aware that he has just opened a dam of emotion, “Shall we discuss the Court? Hm?” His face abruptly darkens just as his hands fist over the bed, “How ‘bout we _discuss_ the part where she was _grateful_ for my ‘help’ but still refused to at least return the favor? That a good enough start for you?”

His wings are beating now, rising up until he’s hovering over the bed and towering over Loki. His eyes are darkening, the colors of his wings merging as they flutter faster and still - Loki can’t help but notice how almost mesmerising he is. Even when so very angry. He ... should really focus.

“ _Or_!” Tony continues, getting angrier, “Or maybe we should discuss the part where she threatened to kick me _out_ after pleading for my Mother’s fucking _life_ and you just _stood there_. Just stood and watched while they dragged me away! Like I was some sort of prisoner, or something, and _not_ a so-called ‘guest’!” He sucks in a breath, his voice quieting, “You just stood there.” That has affected him more, then, Loki realises. How he had been dragged away before, out of the courtroom. “Is that what you want to discuss?”

Loki blinks at him, keeping his face blank. “If you wish to.” He says then, softly. Tony’s chest rises at that, ready to say something spiteful with his expression now more thunderous than before, but -

Eventually, he just lowers himself down to the ground with an exasperated sigh.

His wings droop just as his anger leaves him completely and he puts his head in his hands as he sits back down on the edge of the bed. The leaf crinkles under him as he shifts and he doesn’t look up when Loki sits beside him.

“I’m sorry.”

There. He’s said it.

Tony sniffs behind his hands, not at all the reaction that Loki really wants, and he rolls his tongue over his teeth, looking down at him uncomfortably. What does he say? _Does_ he say anything? He doesn’t even know what it is out of all of this that has upset him most.

The attack in his ceremony itself? Stane’s betrayal, his mother’s injury, their separation? Loki’s promise to help him now broken, or Laufey’s blunt refusal to listen.

So much has happened, in so little time.

Really. He’s more surprised that it’s taken this long for the boy to shed more than one tear, than at the fact that he is crying now after everything. Hope, he realises, it what had stopped him before.

And now. After the court. He’s none left.

Slowly, carefully, he stretches an arm out and uses it to pull Tony closer, one hand curling over his shoulder. Tony moves with him, laying his head on Loki’s chest and moving his hands down to rest in his lap; staring ahead at nothing.

His eyes are dry, but his face is wet. Loki follows his gaze and looks at the same spot on the wall.

They sit like that for longer than they should. Stane’s on the move, they should be doing something about it, but he can’t leave now. Not now.

“It’s my birthday.” Tony says, his head tucked under Loki’s chin and his voice duller than Loki has ever heard it, “My Mother was going to crown me after the ceremony. Stane was going to deliver a speech. I was going to forge my own sword, my own armor. Take my first day in official combat training.” Loki looks down at him, listening, “How did I never see it?” He whispers, “How could I not _see_ what a liar he is?”

“We are all liars, in one way or another,” Loki murmurs to him, looking up at the ceiling now instead, “Some of us are simply better at hiding it.”

He doesn’t mention that he is one of those people.

Tony hums, gradually slowing his breathing down. Loki finds one of his wings, stroking over the tip gently and smiling when that only makes him shut his eyes and relax all the more. Calmer now.

“I hate him.” Calm enough. “I - I fucking hate him, so much, and - and if she’s dead, then I’m going to kill him. I’ll kill him, I swear.”

Loki remembers blood on a pale face, tears at the mark on his chest, the anger he’d felt in that room and the pained choke after that device had -

“You will not be alone in that.” Tony looks up at him, “He did this all to turn our kingdoms against each other, to incite a war, and instead he’s allied it’s two princes in the midst of his plan. You will not be alone in your fight against him. Even if my Mother does not send help, I will. As much as I can.” The wing in his hand thrums with energy now, hope returning to it.

“I know what you think because of her answer to you, but the savages take up much of her mind and they have killed so many of our people. Don’t fault her for thinking of them first.” Tony lowers his eyes, his lashes sticky and clumped and Loki wants to kiss him for that look of guilt, “And, even - _maybe_ \- if the war between the savages were stopped, perhaps she would help you. However, it has gone on for as long as I can remember, and so while they still threaten us, my Mother will only think of them. So for that I am sorry.”

A small twitch at the corner of Tony’s mouth shows him just how badly he wants to smile now, whether from happiness over all of these promises or from amusement over how much Loki has apologised to him.

“Are you saying all of this to make me feel better, or do you actually mean it?” He asks, softly.

Loki dips his head to look at him, “I do not think that I have ever been so sincere in all my life.”

And then Tony does smile. It reaches his eyes immediately, shining them with emotion and he lifts his chin as he leans forward, curling a hand in Loki’s hair just as their lips meet before they even think about what they’re doing.

Tony pulls Loki with him, arms wound tight around his neck, and just as Loki slowly presses him onto his back to find a place to settle in between his legs, they pull away long enough for Tony to widen his smile and say, “You better be keeping those promises, this time, then.” Loki huffs out a laugh, lowering his head to bury it in Tony’s neck, “If you don’t - usually promise things and mean it, then for me that would be thank yous.” Loki bites at a bit of skin, listening to both Tony’s words and the catch of breath that he causes, “So. Thank you. Loki. For … for everything.” It sounds almost like a goodbye, for some reason, and Loki lifts his head to question him but he’s kissed before he can and after that there’s not really much time for talking.

And. Although he knows that it’s more of a habit for Tony than anything, he pretends that the other faerie remembers the reaction he gets when skimming a touch over that sensitive spot just under his cock from before - and doesn’t just move automatically, as though Loki is simply another to lie with - and he himself doesn’t hide his moan when it’s sucked at later on.

They fall asleep together again, bunched in the corner of the bed, and Tony’s wings envelope both their torsos as they lie there a little more comfortably, compared to their first night together. Loki wants to protest that his back may hurt the wound on Tony’s chest with how they’re laying, but the arms around his waist tighten whenever he tries to shift and he’s much too comfortable now to argue anyway.

.

~ 

.

It’s cold when Loki awakes.

And that’s just a little strange, at first, as he knows that Tony’s wings and body heat had kept him warm throughout the night, so why would -

Loki sits up in a rush, looking around to find the bed empty. The fire has been doused, the door is as locked as it had been before, and Tony is neither on any of the chairs in the room, in the bathing room adjacent, nor sleeping fallen on the floor.

And the window is open. With a stick propped under it to keep it that way.

Loki frowns, startled, and quickly rushes over toward it to look outside.

Why would he leave? Had Loki done something - No. He would have known if that were the case, so far Tony has made it clear whenever he’s annoyed with him.

But, if he had wanted to leave, then why through the window? That makes no sense - unless he had known that what he was going to do is wrong, or even, dangerous in some way.

Loki stares out the window, watching as the sun rises. It had been night, then, when he had left.

Night. _Night_. Is he _mad_?

He knows nothing of the outside world, not as much as Loki, and to travel at _night_ \- ?!

There’s a knock at the door and when Loki jerks his head toward it, it’s then that he sees the tint of red scale on the table beside it. A scale - one from the edge of Tony’s wing. It’s a note, in a way, a message. One that he knows is universal in it’s meaning.

It’s there to tell him that Tony has gone, but that he has gone for a purpose. That he has gone but will return.

Has gone … to get help, perhaps? But from where?

Walking over toward the table, ignoring a second and more demanding knock at the door, and lifting the scale up, he sees another lying beneath it. This one is blue in color, edited by Tony’s limited power in magic, and again - Loki knows it’s meaning.

 _Thank you_.

But not a one for goodbye as he already knows that Tony intends to return, so - a thank you for what? A third knock at the door would have irritated Loki were he not so interested in looking over the scales.

He turns the red over in his hands, eyeing it carefully, and it’s then that he notices the scrawl of lettering in the corner.

 _Sunset_.

Sunset. Sunset? What about it? That he’ll return at sunset? Or for Loki to try to find him at sunset? Or - if he has not returned by sunset, to assume that he is dead?

Loki worries over his lip, feeling the first inklings of worry beginning to build within him.

Slowly, he turns the blue over - just as another knock, more a thump against the door this time, echoes in the room. He stares down at the next word written over this scale, squinting to decipher the untidy writing and -

His blood runs a deep cold.

 _Savages_.

Oh no.

“Anthony Stark! Open this door!” The door is knocked at again, rattling now, but Loki only continues to stare down at the scale in his hands.

He _is_ mad then. Completely mad. Or … or desperate.

Desperate to save his Mother and his Kingdom.

Loki curls the hand around the scales into a fist and pulls the door open before another knock can shake it hard. Helblindi blinks at him sharply when he barges past, knocking him aside, “Loki? What are you doing in - ?” He stops himself, answering his own question and clearly taking a moment to digest that fact, and then he sighs, “Where _is_ your little lover then, I’ve been looking.”

“Gone to find and reason with the savages.” Loki answers, as calmly as he can, casually unclasping Helblindi’s sword from his waist and tying it to his own; he’s turning and walking away before his brother even reacts, “I’ll be joining him, if he’s hopefully not dead or captured. Don’t tell Mother.”

“Wha - ?” He tugs his arm out of Helblindi’s grip when he’s grabbed, running now, “Loki!” He ignores him, despite knowing that he’ll be beaten by wings anyway if he’s followed, “Loki! Loki wait! _Loki_!”

“If I die, bury my wings with me!” He calls over his shoulder, disappearing around the corner.

“Is life simply a joke to you, you pixie?!” Helblindi’s answering shout, though genuinely angry and insulting, only makes Loki smile.

Out of everyone he has met, in one way or another, they have scorned him for his lack of flight.

Tony is the only one who has, not only been understanding and accepting, but has even been fascinated by the way he is. Considerate of it as well.

So why on Earth would he let him die _now_?

.

~ 

.

The grass is alive with noise when Loki runs through it and he tries not to think on what that might mean. A cricket jumps right in his way, causing him to cry out and stumble backward before sliding his sword out and taking a swing. It’s gone before he can, clicking at him and hopping over the mud with a speed that only a winged faerie could hope to catch up to.

He runs for as long as he can, panting and darting his eyes around until he finds what he’s looking for. The first day he had ventured out of Jotenheimr he had heard voices just after he couldn’t see the walls of his home anymore and now, again, he has found that same spot. And underneath that same blade that he had hidden in before lies the body of an unconscious savage.

Well. At least he knows now where they usually walk.

The faerie is blond, bearded, with lime colored wings decorated with the typical savage-known pattern of gold, and when Loki kicks him to turn him over, he recognises him immediately. One of Thor’s lackeys. Fandral.

Someone so close to the Prince would not be left behind like this, and so soon enough, someone will come looking for him this way. Loki sits him up quickly against a rock, crouching before him and sheathing his sword.

A slight twitch of the muscle in the man’s cheek, while Loki fashions a rope from his magic by ripping at the grass - using it to tie him down - tells him that he is not as dead to the world as he looks and he scowls, his face darkening just as he backhands him hard across the face.

Fandral flashes his eyes open with a shout, lunging forward and gritting his teeth as soon as he focuses on just who it is sitting opposite him but the rope keeps him bound in place and the sword in Loki’s scabbard keeps him still enough as well, when he notices it.

“Where is the Midgardian?” Loki asks him, his voice cold, steel. Fandral blinks at him. “Where is he? Tell me!” Another blink and now, Loki pulls his sword back out again, holding it under his chin, “Before I decide to simply let the rest of your savage band find you lying here dead.”

Fandral doesn’t move, the sword just barely cutting into his skin, “ _Savage_?” Is the only answer Loki receives, along with a short laugh that’s full of something that’s almost disbelief, before Fandral’s voice darkens, “You’re one to talk.”

“I am here to discuss neither the body count nor the war, just tell me where the Midgardian is and I will let you live.”

“If you mean your little spy, Thor has him.” Loki leans closer. Spy, they think. Why? What has Tony said to them already?

“Where?”

Perhaps it’s his tone, or maybe even the look on his face as he’s not even trying to cover his emotion, but Fandral pauses - looking at him strangely. “Why do you wish to know so badly? You’ll not get information from him now.”

Loki’s losing time. Losing _patience_. “My reasons are my own, savage. Tell me where he is, _now_ , or I swear this sword will strike you through the heart and - ”

“I have told you already. Thor has him. And as _I_ , thanks to the Midgardian, do not know where Thor is just yet, until you find him, you’ll not find your spy.”

Thanks to the Midgardian. So it had been Tony who had rendered Fandral unconscious. He almost smirks at that, before realising that that must mean that there had been a fight here, “Very well.” He sheathes his sword for a second time, standing and turning to walk deeper into the grass before -

“Wait!” He pauses, not looking back, “You said you’d leave me alive.”

“I have.”

“Tied up like this, any creature can come and feast on me.” Now that’s not a bad enough thought to think on, is it.

“Your point?”

“I - ” Loki sighs, walking forward again, “No, wait. I … can help you find your spy?”

And - _that_ is what makes him turn back again. He looks over at the other faerie, raising an eyebrow, “You would betray your leader?”

“Thor is not my ‘leader’,” Fandral scoffs, smiling at that for some strange reason known only to him, “He’s my friend. And I am not betraying him, merely making sure that I’ll not die today.” He looks down over his bonds and then back at Loki with a smirk, “Now will you please untie me?”

Loki looks at him. “No.”

The smirk falls away. “What? Why not?”

Loki crouches before him again, narrowing his eyes, “I once heard that a savage’s wings are so sharp they can cut through to bone in a matter of seconds.” Fandral’s eyebrows both raise as he stares at Loki, “Looking at you, I’m not even sure you are one.”

“Our wings are no different to any other faeries, Jotun.” He drawls, “And we are no savages. Untie me and I’ll take you to your spy, and you can take him away, and that will be all.”

Loki gives him a look. “Unless you kill us both.”

Affronted, Fandral growls, “It was _you_ who threatened to kill me first!”

“Well, you took a friend of mine!”

“He came to us himself!” Loki opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out as - well. He’s right. Tony had. “Now untie me!”

Loki chews on his lip, thinking. If Fandral fights against him as soon as he’s released, he’ll not be much of a match without wings, but perhaps - with his magic? Before, with Stane, it had only taken a single blast to keep down a soldier. Maybe a little burst of anger or adrenaline is all he needs to fill himself with power.

If Fandral does not attack him, Thor and his band may not either if they see that Loki has their friend. They could even bargain. A friend for a friend.

Taking out his sword again, Loki reaches to cut the binds and Fandral watches him; swallowing and widening his eyes whenever the sword strays far too close to his chest.

He’s young, for a soldier - looks to be only either one or two years Loki’s senior. But when Loki leaves the binds around his wrists on, and uses them to tug him along behind him, the pride that rears in his eyes is far more mature than he’d assumed it to be. Hm.

Maybe Savages grew up faster than other faerie children.

Jotun did and Loki - he inwardly shakes his head at his own thoughts. Loki is still learning, himself. Still seen as a child, flightless and in need of protection.

Maybe he is still naive, then.

He glances over at Fandral’s wings, knowing already that they will not be as sharp as he has heard them to be.

Maybe he does still believe in stories.

.

~ 

.

Thor has a camp just near to his home in the midst of the grass, according to Fandral, and apparently if ever any of them were hurt this would be where the others would wait.

Fandral tugs and yanks and drives his elbow into Loki’s back just to try and get out of the binds the entire journey there. He even takes flight at one point before realising that Loki has bound his wings together as well, and falling flat on his face.

They find a campfire soon enough, along with the carcass of the exact same cricket that Loki had seen jumping around through here before. Killed. They’ve _killed_ it.

Alright - he frowns, looking at it and holding a hand to his nose to try to keep the smell out - he’s impressed. A little.

“Thor - !” Loki kicks out behind him, hitting Fandral somewhere in his lower region that makes him suck in his cry and squeeze his eyes shut before sliding down to sit.

“I can still kill you.” He reminds him and the blond simply gives him a deathly glare before jerking his head to the side and sighing. Very dramatically. Loki rolls his eyes, parting a gap between a ripped and cut open leaf until he can see the rest of the camp more clearly.

Thor is there. He’s eating something with both hands, biting into it as an animal would and the rest of his band are sitting on the other rocks that are littered around. But Tony. Where is -

A woman enters the camp from the left, just near to where Loki is hidden, and he crouches quickly. Fandral shifts until he can see as well, until Loki shoves him back with a scowl, hissing, “Stay down.”

He opens his mouth to argue but Loki then warningly touches a hand to the handle of his sword and he thinks better on it, looking away again.

“Sif.” Thor greets and when she turns Loki can see her clearly now, “Has he eaten?”

She sits beside him, taking some food out of his plate and tucking in herself, “No, but he will later if he’s still hungry.” Thor chuckles just as Loki realises that it’s Tony they are talking about. How long has he been here? When had he even crept out to come and find them before? “Thor. He still insists that he is here for a peaceful talk.”

Thor scoffs, “He mentioned their Prince by first name, and expects me to believe that he is here for nothing more than a _talk_?” Where is he, _where is he_? Say it already, he can’t stay here for long, this is Savage territory! “The next time he ‘insists’ upon something like that, remind him just what the Jotun are capable of. Maybe then he’ll question his allegiances.”

Loki grips the leaf tighter with both hands, crinkling it enough that they should have heard it but none look is way.

“If he is not going to eat, then bring the food back. What a waste if it’ll only sit there.”

“You’ve eaten enough Volstagg.”

“Not for me. We’ve yet to see Fandral. For when he returns.” From behind him, Fandral opens his mouth to reveal them both but Loki rips from the leaf and shoves it behind his teeth before he can.

“You only want more for your - ”

“No, Volstagg is right, Sif. Fandral is yet to eat and the Midgardian’ll not touch his. Bring it back.” Sif glares at him.

“ _You_ bring it back. I’ve yet to eat also.”

Next to her, a dark-haired faerie looks up slowly from his crouch and stands with a groan, “I will go,” He says, giving Sif a long look that she frowns at, “My legs need the stretch.”

Loki scuttles back when he comes their way, going to his feet as soon as he passes through the grass and quickly pushing and tying Fandral down over the leaf’s stem before running after him.

Leaving his brief prisoner to scream muffled curses behind his retreating back.

The dark-haired one is fast, darting between the grass and taking flight whenever an obstacle comes in the way. Loki has to climb over them himself and that slows him down enough that he loses sight of him twice, but they’ve clearly not taken Tony far from the camp anyhow as it doesn’t take them long to find him.

He’s sitting with his back to a rock, a plate of food before him, and an expression of utmost boredom on his face. He doesn’t look up when the plate is taken and Loki wastes no time. He steps out and slides into place behind the other man, unsheathing his sword and hitting him over the head with it’s hilt.

He slumps, falling to the ground hard and now Tony snaps his head up, staring at him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Loki shakes his head at him, reaching down to untie him. “Why can you never say a simple ‘thank you’?”

Tony pulls his own arms free, giving him a look, “I thought you liked my ‘thank you’ kisses better.”

“I like you alive as well. What were you thinking?”

Opening his hands, Tony reveals a small makeshift knife made from the scatters of sediment all around him. “I was getting there myself.” He points out, “I’m not helpless.”

“I never said you were.” Loki drawls. “Now should we not get out of here?”

Tony sighs. “No, not yet. I still need to - ”

“Tony.” Loki takes him by the shoulders, “You cannot reason with these people, and if you had asked before leaving I would have told you so without all of this - !”

Tony looks at him like he’s suddenly something very amusing, “No, you don’t get it. It’s like you both have some kind of weird view of each other but none of what you think is even tr - ”

“Do tell us, Jotun.” Loki freezes at the point of a sword pressing against his lower back, and at the sound of Sif’s voice from just behind him, “Just why we cannot be reasoned with.”

There’s a thud and Thor lands beside her, leaning down to check his unconscious friend before standing. “You were right then, Sif. There was someone in the bushes.”

Sif presses further until Loki is forced to take a step forward. “Hogun knew he would follow him. We simply had to follow him ourselves afterward.”

Damn. He hadn’t even heard them when -

“Thor?” Tony asks, taking a step forward, “It is Thor, isn’t it? I - ” Sif turns her sword to him and he stops, cutting himself off, just as Loki yanks his own out and parries hers away with his. They strike together, holding their gaze and keeping their swords pressed at the sides. “Woah. Okay.”

“You’ll keep back, _Jotun_.”

“Aim your weapon elsewhere then, _Savage_.”

Between them, Tony rolls his eyes, “Oh for God’s sake.”

Thor and his band reach for their own swords now as well but a short blast of something small and loud, by all of their ears, jerks them back a step before Tony claps his hands at them to gain their attention. The small balls in his hands, something that he had likely made before leaving his room in the palace, are slipped into his pocket again when he takes another step forward.

“Midgard hasn’t got a fight with either of you has it.” He snaps. Thor looks at Loki with a questioning look, while the others merely blink at Tony. “Has it?”

“No.” Fandral answers, rubbing at his wrists and stepping up behind Thor and the others. Volstagg follows, clearly having gone after him to cut the him free, “We do not.”

Tony nods once, glaring at both Thor and Loki, “Then think of me as the neutral side and shut the hell up and listen for a bit.” Thor’s face darkens at the tone but when he opens his mouth to say something, Loki turns his sword to face him. One of the balls pops by his ear and he makes a sound of discomfort, jerking his head around to face Tony again.

“Tony - !”

“Put the sword down.”

 _What?_ “What?”

“Put. The sword. _Down_.”

Loki stares and Thor laughs at him, booming and loud. It sends a thrum of anger rocketing down Loki’s spine. “You heard your wife, Jotun. Put it down.”

Tony reaches into his pocket with a snarl and the next moment, Thor is rubbing at his ears when more than one of those dreaded balls pop by them.

Sif turns her sword in defense but Loki throws his own at hers before she can do anything, knocking it from her grasp and blasting a spell at it to keep them both pressed to the ground - no matter how hard she tries to pull at hers.

“Look,” Tony says darkly, his hand in his pockets and glaring at them all. Thor straightens, rubbing at one ear now only and actually listening. Surprising. For such an oaf. Loki steps away from him even so, just in case. “There’s something going on here that’s bigger than your petty little wars and you need to stop and _think_ for once, before you’re all dead because of this!”

“Petty?” Thor bites, narrowing his eyes, “These Jotun,” He stabs a finger at Loki, “Have killed more of us than we can count! There is nothing petty about that!”

Loki huffs out a breath, “My _people_ have only ever been defending themselves from you. You, who massacred us all and left without so much as hand of mercy!”

“Oh my _God_.” Tony groans, rubbing at his forehead, “You don’t see it do you. Any of you. This isn’t a War of blood, it’s a War of misunderstanding!” Thor opens his mouth but Tony jabs a finger at him before he can, “Talk and one of these balls are going to get a little testy. They don’t just go ‘pop’, you know.” Slowly, as though hating himself for doing so, Thor closes his mouth and sighs, looking at him expectantly. “I’ve been with Loki for over four days and I know that he’s not as monstrous as you were all saying before. I’ve been with you for over eight hours and I can just _see_ that you’re not the savages the Jotun think you are. That’s 104 hours and I know more about both your cultures than you do about each others. How the hell can you not actually see it for yourselves? Are you blind, or just naive?”

Naive. Loki blinks slowly. Naive. Naive is what Tony is being right now - it isn’t that simple.

“You do not understand, Tony.” He says, taking a step forward and ignoring how the savages tense around him, before giving each other strange looks when they see that he’s only talking, “This War has gone on longer than either of us. We are born enemies. We - ”

“Loki, do you even know what your War is about?” Maybe it’s his imagination but Tony suddenly seems a little disappointed in him. “Do you even know why you’re fighting?”

“I - ” No. He thinks and realises it with a sharp pang. No. No, he does not. He has never known, has just accepted it and after seeing savages attack whilst growing up, he’d known it all to be true but -

But he _does_ not even know why.

“The Jotun’s once tried to take our kingdom. That is why.” Thor barks, “We defended and the War sparked.”

“What?” Loki demands, whirling to face him, his fists automatically clenching, “Why would we _ever_ wish to take your kingdom? What even is there that you have for us?”

“Power.” Thor says, so obviously reciting from some childhood story now and suddenly, Loki understands. He sees. Just as Tony must have.

“The casket is the only power that the Jotun have ever needed and we have kept it safe within our walls for centuries. No other power could either help nor sustain us, so for what reason would we have to take yours?”

Thor pauses, looking at him oddly.

“Because you are bloodthirsty and cruel, murdering creatures.” Sif spits at him, “That is why you attack us. No other reason. No ulterior motive. Only for the spillage of blood.”

Loki looks at her, his voice lowering. Heavy with understanding now. “We learn the same of you, as children.”

No one says anything for a while and, though it seemed easy enough for Loki to understand what it is that Tony means so quickly, that doesn’t mean it will be the same for the others. Stupid as they clearly are.

Tony joins him at his side, flapping his wings once and taking his hand out of his pocket to point toward the grass, “My Kingdom has been taken over.” He announces and Fandral snaps his head up from where he had been fussing with his wrist while the others simply blink slowly at him, “A man by the name of _Stane_ took it from me and has taken my mother captive. He plans to turn our kingdoms all against each other until there’s no one left to fight him when he comes for the spoils. I need to stop him. And to do that, I need your help. _Both_ your Kingdom’s help.”

“We do not work with Jotun.” Volstagg says at the same time as Thor, who snaps, “How do we know that this is not some ploy of the Jotuns to trick us, using you?”

“Think about it big guy,” Tony says condescendingly, “I’m trying to get you to work together. What kind of trick could be involved in that?” Many actually, Loki thinks, but if he can’t think of any particular ones right now then Thor and his band most certainly cannot. “And I doubt the Jotun will want to work with you either, ginger, but do you really want to lose your home to pettiness?”

“My Mother will not trust them.” Loki warns Tony, catching on quickly, “Nor will their leader trust us.”

“My father.” Thor adds, clearly not liking Loki’s disregard of names and titles. “ _Odin_. He is the King of our Kingdom, _Asgard_.”

“I’m not asking you to trust each other.” Tony says, ignoring him, “I just want you to open your eyes. You’re not actually that different. You’ve just been fed stories all your lives and you both think that the other species is some sort of savage or monster.” He then looks to them all, “And you’re all wrong. I’m not saying forget it all right now, because that’s probably going to take years, and there’s no way you’re going to trust each other but are you seriously going to let that man out there take over your homes because you don’t think you can _listen_ for a few minutes?”

Thor looks at Loki, his expression a little off though both Fandral and Volstagg look suitably contrite. Or so he thinks, “It is not up to me to determine whether or not a Jotun’s word should be trusted,” He finally says and Loki can’t help but clench a fist at the derogatory tone he uses when mentioning Loki’s people. Tony’s hand finds his fist and lightly touches it - warningly, though gentle in a way as well - and even just slightly, Loki calms himself and turns away to hide his own brief attempts into aggression.

When he looks back, Thor is staring at him. ‘ _What_ ’ he mouths at him antagonistically, and the faerie turns toward Tony instead. “My father will see you, if I request it.” He says and his band starts in surprise, looking to him as one.

“Thor - ” Sif starts, just as Hogun stirs at her feet. He shakes his head at her, whispering so clearly and obviously [idiot] that he will _explain later_ , before turning back to Loki and nodding at him; looking only to Tony once again when they reach some sort of unspoken understanding.

“I will take you to him, for an audience only. But I will not promise anything to you.”

“An audience is good enough for me.” Tony tells him, just as Thor turns to walk back to the clearing likely. His band follows him, shouting their protests all at once and glancing back at the Jotun and the Midgardian as they do. It’s deathly silent when they go.

“A trap.” Loki guesses, after a solid period of silence. Tony gives him a look. “You cannot seriously think that they will honestly take us there and let us live.”

“My only chance in getting my home and my mother back is getting the help of the Jotun. To do that I need to stop this War and, to be completely honest, it’s only gone on for so long because you’ve clearly gotten idiots leading your armies.” Thor leads the Sava - _Asgardian_ army. Helblindi leads the Jotun. He wants to defend his brother but … well. An idiot he is, isn’t he.

“And what then?” Tony frowns at him, “After we have helped you regain your kingdom, and after this is all done and over, what will happen to us?”

“What do you mean?”

“War will inevitably begin between us again, Tony. We will find another issue, another chance at fighting each other. And what then?”

There’s a short pause between them and Tony’s wings lower as he thinks, touching at the middle and curling at the sides. Loki regrets his tone, wondering if perhaps he should not be so curt as this is likely Tony’s only chance at saving his mother.

“Then,” Said Prince starts, quietly, looking down, “Then I’ll stay.”

“What?” Loki stares at him.

Tony looks up, a funny sort of half-smile on his face, “I’ll stay. I’ll - live here. With you. To ensure that negotiations take place and that no more Wars will come. If this works, and Odin listens to us, it’ll give me the backing that I need.”

Live here? With Loki - in Jotenheimr? The Jotuns had thrown things at him, had insulted him in the streets as he’d walked by, and whether or not that will change after they discover how much he has helped them all as well, he will never be accepted as one of them.

It may kill him, from what Loki knows of him. To live where he is hated. Loki is used to it, he was born into it all, and without wings he’s been treated that way most of his life. For Tony, from how Midgard had looked and how he’d dressed and acted, living like that will kill him.

And yet he’s willing. Loki swallows, opening his mouth to claim another solution, a different one, just - something else. But Tony’s already walking away, his wings still low and he looks over his shoulder questioningly when Loki doesn’t follow immediately.

“Come on. We don’t know the way there, do we.”

 

\-----

Asgard is, clearly, a Warrior’s realm. When they first enter it’s walls, the very stone of them have the scrapes and marks of the various weapons that have harmed it in previous years. The sounds of training and of fighting are heard as they walk through the streets toward the palace grounds but Thor is silent as he walks, pensive, and Loki resists the urge to try and walk ahead - despite not knowing the way - if only to irritate the Prince of Asgard.

Tony’s hand on his arm keeps him a little grounded in his thoughts, however purposeful it is, and they walk together at the back of the party; keeping their heads down whenever an Asgardian looks up at them with a frown. At the sight of his blue skin, uproar almost begins but then, when Thor waves a hand, they quieten and settle for darkly glaring at Loki whenever he passes one by. He smiles at them all, brightly, and Tony laughs beside him at the reaction that that gains him.

A single guard stands at the doors to the palace, a man by the name of Heimdall who allows them entrance - giving Loki a look that almost leads him into ducking his head. He doesn’t, however, and meets the other’s gaze the entire time that they’re in each other’s view. When the doors shut, Heimdall turns back and looks over the city instead.

Hm.

“My Father will see you, only if I explain the matter first.” Thor then says, a look of distaste still on his face as he glances at Loki and directs his words to Tony instead. “Fandral will take you both to a room.”

“No.” Tony refuses, shaking his head, “That’ll take way too much time and we could be left there for who knows how long. I know how this works, I’m royalty too remember. If we’re seeing him, we’re seeing him now.”

Sif takes a step toward him and Loki steps in front of Tony. They stare at eachother, narrowing their eyes and Loki shakes his head when she reaches for her sword.

“I do not trust them to be alone, Thor.” She then says, “Even in Fandral’s care. He may spend more time looking over their bodies than guarding.” The man in question opens his mouth to angrily protest but she continues over any sound of insult that he makes, “If your father will have it, perhaps they should be seen to now.”

Thor doesn’t look at her. He keeps his gaze fixed on Tony. “You.” He then says, suddenly a lot more serious than he had been before, “You and the Jotun.” Tony’s foot finds Loki’s and stamps when he takes an angry step toward the Prince now, “Do you care for each other?”

“Um.” Tony steps out from behind Loki now, not even apologizing for stomping over his boot, “Repeat the question?” Thor doesn’t say anything. “Define ‘care’.”

“Yes.” Loki answers for him, his tone curt. “But, if you are only asking to ponder over whether or not you can use him to hurt me, or vise-versa, you will regret even - ”

“We learnt that the monsters of Jotenheimr _ate_ the mortals they found from other kingdoms. When I first saw you two talk, I - wondered. And now, with how you have been acting this journey here, and how you try to protect him, I - ” He stops, turning to Volstagg. “Tell a servant to inform my father that the Prince of Midgard, and the Jotun … “ He trails off, looking at Loki.

“The Jotun Crown Prince, Loki.” He says, giving his full title if only to make them stare at him in surprise.

“ … is here to have audience with him.”

Volstagg leaves shortly after Thor gives him just a few more words and instructions and Sif joins him, her hands twitching by her sword though she makes no move to unsheath it before going.

“Come with me.” Thor says then, leading them to the ‘main hall’ now that he has given his father the necessary warnings.

.

~

.

“The Jotun’s have always been our enemies, young Midgardian. It was a choice made by them, not by us, when they attempted to overturn my kingdom with their thirst for blood. We have ever only defended ourselves against their monstrosities of soldiers.”

He’s going to kill him. A knife, a sword, anything. If Odin speaks another of his lies, Loki’ll have a knife sticking out of his throat in the next second, he’ll -

“I’m not asking you to do anything more than to just listen to me, your highness, I - ”

Odin leans forward in his throne. He’s an elderly man, only with a single eye - the other covered with a patch of leaf - and his throne is made from the weaves of a shrunken tree. His age seems to make him look a little fragile, a little close to passing out even.

That doesn’t exactly stop any of Loki’s threatening thoughts however.

“I _have_ listened, Anthony Stark of Midgard, to your tale and to your solution. However, I find myself less than inclined to believe and to help you.”

Tony’s wings rise as he replies and Loki chews on the nail of his thumb as he watches, standing just beside him, “It isn’t just my kingdom that’s in danger to all this, he’s planning on taking your kingdoms as well. And now that I’ve warned you, he’ll think of another way to get to you. We have to stop him.”

“We.” Odin repeats, thoughtfully. Tony clenches his fists. “The Jotun, you alone and my people. We.”

“Yes.”

“And you … believe then. That the Jotun will work with us.”

Tony turns to Loki, his eyes almost pleading and Loki lowers his hand from his mouth and steps forward, “As Crown Prince I have promised to give any help that I can to him. If it means working with Asgardians, so be it.”

“Queen Laufey has said that she’ll consider helping me if the War between the two of you is over. I’m here with her son to negotiate peace. Between both your kingdoms.”

“Peace has no place in our lives anymore.” Beside the throne, Thor stands. He has not spoken at all during this but now, he glances at his father in confusion, “Too long have we fought. It would take more than a simple hour of negotiation to stop it.”

“I’m not talking about an hour, your highness, I’m talking about weeks afterward - maybe even months, if it happens that way. But what I _am_ saying is that you can help me _now_ , by working together with the Jotun and with me, and peace can be negotiated for a long time after this is all over.” Tony then directs his words to the people seated in the court. “I mean, fighting alongside someone else is bound to create relationships, anyway? Right? Comradeship and so on and that’ll only make it all the more easier to - ”

“And if the Jotun betray us?”

“Do you not think I have had similar concerns? And yet I have agreed to this.” Loki growls, even going so far as to baring his teeth. If they want a monster, have one.

Odin doesn’t look impressed, “You are not your Kingdom’s ruler yet, _prince_ , you do not understand the responsibilities of those that truly do rule.”

Loki opens his mouth but Tony gets there first, curt and angry, “So you’d rather thousands of lives be wasted all because you can’t be bothered to shut up and open your mind a little?”

Odin’s face tightens and Loki _knew_ this would happen. That, though he had so very obviously tried his hardest to be polite all this time, Tony’s patience would have it’s end. Loki’s surprised that he’s even lasted this long - Odin had interrupted at least fifteen times during the explanation and all had been about whether or not Tony could have done more to stop Stane or if the Jotun were _somehow_ to blame for this all.

Perhaps he’s senile? That could explain it. Loki could even say that he had fallen off of his throne after falling asleep. No one would ever suspect -

“All due respect, my mother is out there right now, possibly dying and in the hands of a tyrant and I’m doing _everything_ to try to save her and I’ve come here to try to do so, but all you’ve had me do is recite again and again what’s happened to begin this little cycle of events and you’ve not actually done _anything_ at all useful besides just sitting there - !”

“You will hold your tongue in the halls of Asgard, mortal.” Odin interrupts, darkly. “You are not in Midgard now, you are in my kingdom, not yours.”

“I won’t _have_ a kingdom if you won’t listen to me and - !”

“ **Enough**.” Tony snaps his jaw shut, glaring at him, “Enough. You will leave now, and take my mercy as it is. If you refuse to go, I will have no choice but to take you captive.”

“No choice.” Tony repeats, before scoffing in disbelief and turning on his heel but -

“The Jotun cares for the mortal, father,” Thor says, loud enough that any of the buzzing conversation that had gradually started is silenced immediately. “Enough that it was easy to see when I first met them both.” Loki stares at him. Next to him Tony looks away. He tries not to think about that. “After everything that we have ever known of them, should that not show us that they are not all as we thought them to be?”

Odin doesn’t say anything and Loki takes his chance.

“With my word, my mother will agree. You have only to allow your soldiers to take arms with us. The Midgardian army has - um - ” He looks to Tony for help.

“Two Hundred.”

“Two Hundred soldiers. My kingdom, after the destruction it has seen, has only a little more than that. Against the army that Stane has stolen, we would only -- ” He sighs. “Your warriors are greatly needed your highness.”

Again, Odin says nothing. Thor, instead, walks forward, “We have Four Hundred men at our disposal.” He looks at the King, “Father?”

Odin sits still, looking over the court, “I can offer no men.” He then says, slowly, “No Asgardian will fight with a Jotun.” Tony and Loki both speak at once but - “However. No Asgardian will _attack_ Jotenheimr until your negotiations can officially take place.”

In other words. Until he can completely control the proceedings will he actually do anything.

Bastard.

To his credit, Thor doesn't look as happy with the decision himself but he stays silent. There are more demands, more arguments and more compromises but Odin remains fixed in his decision and sends Thor with Loki to retell this to Laufey so that she may believe it herself and not attack Asgard either - _despite_ Loki telling him five times that that will not be necessary.

“Thank you.” Tony says to him as soon as the doors close and Thor only nods once in acknowledgement that he’s heard and walks on in front of them. Tony then looks at Loki, blinks, and looks down; flapping his wings until he can fly just a little over their heads. Loki frowns but then, he supposes, it is best to look over the grass as they walk. Jotenheimr is not exactly nearby, anything could attack before they reach it and some warning would be nice.

Loki walks below him, pretending that the fact that Tony refuses to even glance down at him even just the _once_ doesn’t affect him and instead, looks at Thor as he walks just a few steps in front.

Thor’s wings, having been hidden in the folds of his clothes until now, flutter once in plain sight but remain still and don’t lift him into the sky as Tony’s have done. They are a solid blue in color, with the same pattern of gold that had been on Fandral’s etched over the nerves.

As though sensing his stare, Thor looks over his shoulder, “We will arrive there sooner if we fly.” Looking over his back and not seeing any wings in sight he frowns and Loki bristles, preparing himself for whatever comes next, “Would you be irritated by a hand of help?”

What? “A hand of what?”

“Help.”

“ _Meaning_?”

Above them, Tony swoops down, taking an arm of Loki’s and lifting him as he speaks, “I’ll take him. You fly alone.”

“Do I not have a say in - !” Tony takes flight before Loki can even finish, ignoring his protest and flying them higher still, so that any scream or look of panic of his can be easily hidden from Thor; saving Loki the humiliation. “Walking is far safer.”

“I wonder what you’d be like if you actually _did_ have wings.” Tony drawls just over his head, turning them when a fly buzzes past them - briefly they’re knocked off course - but Tony keeps them on straight and they meet Thor again; flying at a much safer level when three more flies and a bee decide to follow. “Thank you, by the way. For what you did for me. Helping me like that and - and, uh, everything.”

“What, no kiss of thanks?” Loki asks shakily, trying not to look down. It hadn’t felt this way before, but then - they had been flying for their lives that time and he hadn’t exactly been focusing on the sensation of it at all. Now, he can. And - hm. Suddenly flying doesn’t seem like something that he should be envious of.

Tony grins, turning them sharply when the walls of Jotenheimr come into view, “Nah. You might get the wrong idea.” That … sounds just a little off to him and Loki opens his mouth to comment but before he can even begin his question, Tony starts to lower for a landing over the walls and he has to press his lips together, tight, to stop himself from crying out aloud.

“Prince Loki.” The guard nods his head in greeting, ignoring the sight of an Asgardian and Midgardian walking just behind him, “Your Mother has requested that when you return you should meet her in her chambers.”

Return? She’d known that he’d left? How -

Ah of course. Helblindi. He remembers asking him for their mother to not be told but, alas, he has a brother that cares more of his ego than his _brain_.

“Her chambers it is then.” He says with a sigh, turning to Thor and Tony. The latter of which suddenly seems a little nervous, “I will take the blame.” And now, he’s surprised. Guilty even, a bit.

“No. You weren’t even supposed to follow me and you’re already in trouble. I - ”

“If she puts the blame on you she will not offer you help. _I_ will take it.”

“Loki - ”

“Should we not,” Thor starts, looking between them both, “Go? I believe we were wasting time before.” Tony looks at him, at Loki, and clears his throat; nodding.

“Yeah. Lead the way, O Crown Prince.” Thor glances at him and Tony blinks, “The - Jotun one.”

.

~

.

Laufey is incredibly, undeniably, _frighteningly_ furious.

So furious that she cannot even interrupt Loki when he flusters through his explanation, telling her all that had happened and trying to reach the end of his little tale before she finally finds her words or decides to just throttle him and be done with it.

Her nails dig into the roots of her chair, her red eyes fixed on Thor the entire time that Loki talks, though she sometimes turns her glare toward Tony who stands at the back of the room beside Býleistr. Tony’s wings are low now, curled and drooped and at that, she looks away with a sigh and her glare then remains only on Thor instead. Thor, who is yet to even lower his wings in respect. Loki wants to hit him as much as he does Helblindi for telling Laufey in the first place.

Said brother is not here right now. How convenient.

“I understand why the _mortal_ left, his mother being in danger and that desperation always has a play in the way we think.” Tony’s silent in answer; either her patronising tone has not registered or he is so sure she’ll refuse to help and has succumbed into a miserable state over this. “But you, Loki? _Why_ did _you_ leave the walls of your home, without permission? You know of my rules, you know of how you were born and not only did you endanger yourself, but you endangered your own _people_ by conversing with the Savages!”

Loki flinches, “Mother - ”

“My people are not savages.” Thor says, his voice low, a little dark even and Laufey stiffens in her seat at the sound of it, sitting up and narrowing her eyes at him, “And we have offered you the help that you need. My Father has vowed to not attack until this is over and has even accepted the Midgardian’s invitation to negotiate peace between us.” Laufey looks at Tony. “If you will also accept, I can be on my way and you can … ” He also looks at Tony now. “Begin preparation for the fight?”

“If the Queen allows it.” Tony answers, his head down and his shoulders raised. Loki finds himself a little annoyed at him for that, but as he understands, he represses the emotion and instead turns to Laufey once again.

“Tony and I spoke with the Asgardian King. Peace may be a chance for us and there has been a vow that no Asgardian will attack us until the Midgardian throne is restored to it’s rightful ruler.” Laufey’s face hasn’t softened, not even a little, but her eyes - the way they look as she watches Tony shrink in on himself at the back. Her eyes are what makes Loki want to keep on talking. “Mother. This could be our chance at finally ending the War. We would save our people.”

“Your Majesty.” Tony speaks up, quietly, “Please.”

Laufey doesn’t speak, not for a while. Thor steps forward in the silence, his face set, but at Loki’s look he glares arrogantly but actually remains still - his wings rising just a little more, in a warning of aggression, however, but thankfully no one comments.

“This is important to you.” Laufey then says, softly, looking at Loki through lowered eyes. “Not only to the Midgardian but to you also.” He looks at her, sucking in a breath before realising that she is genuinely waiting for an answer of his. He nods slowly.

“It is.”

Her face hardens and with a start, Loki wonders if he’s lost her - but he can’t have, what did he say that was wrong, does she not want him to - “Asgardian.” She snaps, sharply. “You will tell your father that I accept the vow.” Thor straightens and at the back, Tony’s head jerks up, his eyes wide and a spatter of color flushing his cheeks, “However. If any _one_ of his soldiers break their word and attack my kingdom or my people, yours will suffer thrice the pain. And that is a promise.”

Thor pauses, “And you would like me to say that also?”

“Býleistr will take you to the gate.” Is all she says in reply and the son in question flutters to attention and leads Thor out of the room and down the corridor. Tony makes to follow, but - “ _Wait_.” And freezes. “You will wait for me in your chamber, mortal. I wish to speak with you.” With a blink, Tony looks at Loki out the corner of his eye before nodding at Laufey awkwardly, turning, and walking out as well. “ _You_ will stay _now_.” She says to Loki instead, glaring at him. The doors shut with a click and silence envelops around them both for a few moments before - “I allowed you out before to regain us the _casket_ , Loki.”

“Which I _did_ \- !”

“That does not mean that you will always be allowed exit from the kingdom. The world out there is dangerous, and you are _without wings_. Who knows what may happen to you!”

He wants to understand, wants to listen, but anger suddenly clouds over every single thought in his mind in a blur, because _hasn’t_ he proven himself to her yet? Hasn’t he shown her that he can live and survive out there?

“How did your human work in our world Mother, if I am so unable to?” He asks her, bitterly, “Did you lock him up for his safety as well?” Her expression shutters but he doesn’t even stop to think if maybe he’s gone too far with that, “If he could walk outside of the kingdom, then why can I not? I am of age, I have proven myself, I have - ”

“ - engaged yourself to a mortal so early in your life when you have _no_ idea what the consequences of such a relationship can be!”

He pauses. “... what?”

Laufey sighs, “You and the mortal. What is it? Between you?” A little lost, Loki glances at the door, half expecting Helblindi to walk inside laughing.

“Are we talking of me endangering myself physically or emotionally, mother, because are there not more important things to be - ”

“What. Is there?”

“There’s nothing.” Loki says behind gritted teeth, “He assisted me in gaining back the casket and I have assisted him in gaining back his Kingdom. Until that is done, my debt stands.”

“Debt.” Laufey echoes.

“ _Yes_. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She rubs at her forehead, as though another of her headaches is arising and Loki rolls his eyes, looking away, “That is not what ‘Blindi said to me.”

Damn that boy! “Helblindi does not know anything of my - !”

“Have you lain together?” Loki doesn’t answer. “Loki, tell me now, or I will ask your brother. Detail I do not wish for, simply a yes or no.” His eyes sliding shut, Loki nods. “Once?” He shakes his head. “Oh Loki.”

“ _What_? Why does it matter, what I do is my own choice Mother, it is time you - ”

“My human.” She interrupts, her voice breaking and Loki snaps his jaw shut, swallowing and suddenly wanting to bolt from the room. Her hand finds his wrist before he can, as though sensing his thoughts herself. “I can neither remember his name nor his face … but I have never stopped loving him. The first time I lay with the man was the first time that I ever laid my heart out to him. And it has never been returned. Oh, I loved Fárbauti, I did, but not as I did my human.”

Loki darts his eyes between hers, unsure of what to say.

“Because he was not _Jotun_. I gave myself to another, one that does not share the same blood and for that I must suffer forever for I will never forget my love but I will never see him again.” She lowers her eyes. "And if your mortal were a woman, he would have to live in the same path that I did. To have a child that will be scorned by the faeries it will be made to live with." He bites his tongue. “You have lain with another, Loki, one that is not Jotun and not of your blood and one that will haunt you forever. If he does not love you, or at least grow to …” She sighs, looking away, “This is why you must listen, why you must - ”

“ _Listen_?” Loki interrupts and suddenly white, hot anger is bubbling through every word, “Listen to _what_? You _never_ told me of this, Mother! All that I _need_ to know you have always kept to your _self_!” She looks down, away from his eyes that are now probably burning in their intensity, “I _have_ grown to care for him in so short a time and that is only because he is not of my blood. Isn’t it. _Isn’t it_.” She presses her lips together. “Mother!”

“You would have had to have cared for him also, Loki, if only a little to have lain with him. Whatever you had felt for him before then is true and now, it has only grown. I do not doubt your feelings, I only doubt his.” Loki stares at her. He cannot even _speak_ , he’s so angry.

“Why have you kept this from me?”

“I never thought you would venture outside of Jotenheimr. I kept you here for your lack of wings and I assumed that that would mean you would meet a Jotun woman to spend your days with. Not - not go laying about in the grass with a _mortal_ boy.”

Loki clenches his fists. That’s it.

“You have controlled me for much of my life Mother and though I love you and I care for you, it stops now.” She opens her mouth but he continues as though he hasn’t seen. Words come barrelling past his lips and his tone spits at her in an anger he isn’t sure he’s justified into feeling, “Any choice that I now make, I will make alone. You will not be informed, you will not be requested to give your _permission_ and you certainly will not be expecting me to come to you to apologize for it.” Despite his tone and despite the rudeness, her expression does not change and she doesn’t look angry in the slightest. Simply resigned. “When you talk with Tony later, you will not mention this, _any of it_ to him. His ‘decision’ of this when I - I finally ask him, will be his alone.” With a nod she looks down, and at the sight of a tear sliding down her chin, he settles only for swiping it away, “Mother. I am of age now. You _must_ let me go.”

Looking her in the eyes he can practically see the fear that she holds. Fear for him, the only reminder she has of her human and her eldest son, born so helpless into such a dangerous world. But he cannot live if she continues like this.

“Mother.”

She sucks in a shuddering breath, turning her face away and wiping her tears from her face herself, “Go.” She orders him softly, but not as a dismissal but a last act of giving ‘permission’. He nods once, lightly touching her forehead with his lips before leaving the room.

.

\----

.

“ _No_.” Loki scorns Tony angrily, taking both his hands forcefully and placing them over the spear properly, “If a soldier comes toward you, swinging a spear at them like _that_ will certainly not kill them and will probably have them only look at you in confusion before slitting your throat!” Tony giggles helplessly at the look on Loki’s face and he finds himself groaning with exasperation, “Tony.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just - you sound like my Father. When he was actually being ‘nice’, I mean.” Loki grimaces, scrunching his nose at him, “No, no, _God_ no! Not like that! This is the first time you’ve made me think of him, and yeah, that’s weird but - I don’t know. Never mind.” He’s still giggling though and Loki’s warning frown and look of ‘ _concentrate_ only seems to make it worse. He sighs, sitting down and back over the ground.

“Enough for today, then, I think.”

Tony slumps beside him with a relieved sigh, rubbing at a new and recent bruise on his neck; looking up at the sky, “Have any of the sentries that your brother sent out seen Stane yet?” Loki shakes his head, biting at his bottom lip. It’s been a week since the vow that Odin had given them had been announced to the people and since then every soldier has been training for a battle. Loki had remembered, before, what Tony had said to him about his birthday being the day that he would begin training and had taken up the task of teaching him himself.

And _what_ a mistake.

Tony is as hopeless with a sword as Loki is at flying. He can outmaneuver arrows when flying, can punch someone hard enough to send their head falling into a pot of mud - and can laugh at them for hours afterward, as well, apparently - and can create his own weapons from the magic dust of his wings that he uses to make more of those little balls that explode into fire whenever they hit their target. And that can all be useful, yes, but it’s when he runs out or if his wings get wet, that Loki is worried about.

The boy has no idea on how to fight with weapons and can barely stand up straight when handed a Jotun’s sword.

Edited, however, to match his size seems to be perfectly fine but it’s then all how he swings it like a mad man that has the other Jotun jeering and laughing as they watch Loki duck and fear for his life half the time. The spear hasn’t been much better and Tony had flung one of his balls toward Helblindi when the Jotun had made one or two comments on his ineptitude. Needless to say, that had scared most of them away and Tony and Loki had ‘trained’ the rest of the days in peace.

Laufey had called Loki in twice since last he’d seen her and had been quiet both times. He’d been unable to squash his guilt over that and had tried countless times to go and knock at her door to apologize but every time he fumbled with the knob, become a sudden coward and fled. Tony hadn’t spoken to him that day either, for whatever reason, but when Loki had come to him with the offer of training he had immediately brightened and accepted.

“Do you think my Mother’s still alive?” Tony asks into the quiet, still looking up at the sky. Loki rolls onto his side to look at him, suddenly a little bombarded by the memories of the first time that they had lain on the ground together and he remembers his mother’s words. He wonders -

No. He’ll not ruin this. If Tony does not, as well, then he can always find another. He is not his mother, he can handle his heart breaking.

Slowly, his fingers find the wound on Tony’s chest, touching it through his shirt as it’s healed now - still blue and still there - but not as painful as it first had been. Tony’s hands finds his and he taps a beat over the top of Loki’s knuckles.

“If she is anything like you, undoubtedly.” Tony smiles at him at that, glancing down with a flicker of pain in his eyes at the blue on his chest. Loki retracts his fingers, “Does it still hurt?”

“No.” He murmurs, “It’s - I was just thinking. Stane did this to me so easily. He cut through everything and hurt me like this in a matter of seconds and - well, what if he does it again?”

Loki raises his eyebrows, his face darkening, “I’ll not let him.”

Tony gives him a look, “I’m not going to _rely_ on you, Loki, why would I want to do that?” He sits up now and Loki’s hand slides off of his chest to thump onto the ground, “I need something else. I need - armor. Good armor, not like the ones you have here, that only cover your chest and groin.”

He’s been thinking of this clearly.

“They would not fit you either. Not even ones my size.” Tony glares at him. “I’m only speaking the truth.”

“Then I’ll make my own.” He says lightly, scrunching his lip to one side and he looks around for anything he thinks he can use to create something, “I’ll need metal. Where do you find it from around here?”

Loki sits up as well, “Metal? The only time we have ever found any had been when a human had dropped a metal box beside the river. It had taken twenty five of us to carry it back here and most of our armor has been made from it. Other than that … ” He shrugs, looking around as well.

“Well, okay then.” Tony says, looking at him with the sort of smile that Loki is beginning to not like seeing, if only because he knows it’ll only cause trouble, “I’ll just have to find a human then, won’t I.”

And there we have it. Trouble.

.

~

.

“Are you _mad_?” Helblindi hisses at them both as Tony hovers himself and Loki over a patch of wood just across from a human’s house, “You could get yourselves killed! Or worse, lead it back home!”

“If you’re only going to complain, then why the hell did you come along?” Tony hisses back at him, raising an eyebrow. Loki stifles a laugh when Helblindi looks at him, as though expecting him to shut Tony up.

“He’s right, brother, why come?”

He’s punched in the shoulder, hard. “To ensure that you’ll not ruin anything for our Kingdom! We should not even be here at all, we need to leave, _now_!”

“I’ll only be a minute.” Tony assures them both, fluttering up and letting Loki go when he’s a little closer to the ground before flying just over the grass in the dark. They’d discussed this all already but Loki still feels a little uneasy letting him go alone.

He watches him fly further away from them both, ignoring the bitter fury radiating off of Helblindi and trying to keep the mortal in sight. Tony reaches the house in only a few seconds, hovering just behind a window and staring into it with both hands cupped around his eyes. He braces a hand, pushes, and when nothing gives way flies around, looking for another way inside. Loki chews on the inside of his cheek, wishing that he could go with him, but he’d only slow him down.

Tony flies to the top of the house now, darting back and forth over the roof while the other two faeries strain to even _see_ him and suddenly he isn’t there anymore. Loki stands with a jerk but Helblindi pulls him down with a scowl and points, letting him know and showing him that there’s another way inside from the roof that Tony must have found. A rectangular object made from human bricks and omitting smoke. Smoke. He grinds his teeth, hoping that Tony isn’t flying toward any fire of some sort or that he is at least careful around one.

They wait for a few more minutes, watching and listening. Minutes in which Helblindi curses and mutters about the cold, jostling Loki and angrily remarking that _Mother will hear of this_! Loki ignores him entirely and stares only at the roof, squinting and narrowing his eyes just to try and catch a glimpse of Tony emerging from behind it or -

Lights suddenly flicker on in the house and they both start in surprise; Loki feels his entire heart actually solidify itself in horror and for some reason all he can think of is what his Mother had told him before, about giving himself away to someone who is not Jotun …

“He’s dead.” Helblindi informs him bluntly, not even the slightest bit sorry for it, and rising to his feet just as human shadows begin to fill the window that Tony had tried to enter from before.

“Who’s dead?” Tony asks them curiously, letting a large and golden necklace fall from around his neck and out of his hands. Helblindi scowls up at him, looking away just as Loki contrastingly smiles at him in relief, “I kind of accidentally woke them up before, when the cat saw me.” He explains, landing beside them and looking over at the window and the human shadows as well. “Luckily they blamed _it_ rather than me.”

“No one saw you did they?” Helblindi snaps at him and Tony looks a little taken aback by the tone before glaring over at him and shaking his head, “Good. The last thing we need is you leading them all back toward our homes. You’ve already risked too much by running off after the Savages as it is.” Tony’s jaw clenches and he starts forward quickly with both hands clenched, ready to aim one of his hardened punches, but Loki sticks a foot out to keep him at bay. Helblindi doesn’t even seem to notice that and simply dusts himself off and takes flight, “Now let’s go.”

Loki takes a part of the necklace in hand while Tony takes the other, lifting in between them before having to suddenly use it to hold on tight when Tony decides to take flight, “Wh - ” He flails for a bit, trying not to look down, and then sighs, “The idea is to _help_ you with the weight.”

“Yeah, but I do actually _want_ to get back at dawn too.” Tony says over his shoulder with a grin, straining to hold on but managing surprisingly without complaint. However, at a sharp look from Loki, Helblindi swerves over to help him hold it all as well. Not without a muttered insult, though - brat.

They reach the wall just as the sun begins to rise and Tony follows Loki down to the chambers, holding the necklace between them and ignoring the looks that the Jotun servants send them as they pass, before finally reaching Tony’s room.

“Here.” Loki says quietly, letting the necklace fall to the floor just as Tony shuts the door after him. He clears his throat, not having been alone with Tony since Laufey had first told him of - “Are you going to begin work on it now?”

Tony scoffs a little, running a hand through his hair, “I’m probably going to need a little sleep first, my brain’s actually gone _muzzy_ from the general lack of it.” Loki blinks, pretending to understand the feeling. He himself has slept properly and hasn’t even been aware of Tony not following the same sleeping patterns. Perhaps Midgardian’s slept differently?

With a relieved ( _why_?) sigh, he straightens and nods formally, “Very well. Goodnight then.”

Tony looks up at him from where he had been frowning over the necklace bundled at the foot of his bed and watches as Loki heads for the door. He turns the knob only to freeze when it’s shut before he can slide it open; Tony’s hand rests just above his, and when Loki turns to face him, his eyes are soft; open with emotion.

“... Stay.” Is the quiet request and Loki doesn’t even have to be asked _twice_ before he’s nodding. Damn this all. He turns from the door, his mind reeling and struggling to catch up, wondering whether or not he's still feeling this way because Tony is not of Jotun blood or because he truly does care more than he should about this one mortal now.

He almost lets Tony take him by the hand, almost lets himself be taken to sit on the bed and to open his mouth for a groan when Tony’s fingers make their way downward …

But he doesn’t.

“I should go.” He says instead; Tony drops the arm from the door, blinking. And suddenly Loki’s mouth is running on it’s own. “What we had is done now, I think. You’ve your battle and kingdom to focus on and I’ve my people to lead. A little lust doesn’t matter right now.”

“Lust.” Tony echoes, his voice thin. Relieved, perhaps?

Loki ignores whatever else he wants to say and simply nods, again, once. “Goodnight Tony.”

Tony nods back at him, taking a step away from the door and letting him open it, opening his mouth to return the farewell, “... goodnight.”

Goodbye.

.

~

.

~

They still train together. If only to keep routine.

Tony gains some speed to his movements, learns to swipe instead of jab and Loki saves himself a few bruises during these sessions as well some cuts and bleeds. After taking what he had been told from his mother and ‘saving’ himself what she had done to her own life, a heaviness has draped over him that he ignores during the day and that he ponders over while he lies in bed for sleep.

He knows what it is and he knows what he should do and what he should say and yet, something insists on keeping him back. Pride perhaps. Or even fear. Fear that, as Loki knows he does due to his own biology, Tony may not feel that way in return.

-

No sentries have sighted Stane as of yet and Laufey, just a few days ago, had granted both Thor and his father into Jotenheimr for early negotiations. Tony had been invited whereas Loki had not, and Helblindi had been in the mortal’s chambers in the early morning to ‘discuss’ matters to do with this. It irks Loki, no matter how much he tries to make it not do so, as he knows that this is all his doing just as much as it is Tony’s and yet he is excluded just as he had been in all his other years of life.

He spends the time in his room, knowing that if he is to ask Tony later about what the meeting might have concluded, he’ll be ignored anyway. Tony’s done a lot of that recently, outside of training, and Loki does his best not to get too optimistic about that. For even if Tony _had_ felt something, just something, then he most certainly does not now.

Likewise, Helblindi ignores him just as Tony’s decided to and after knowing of only two secret meetings between them, he wonders if it’s something that they’d come up with together.

_Loki is useless. Leave him from meetings._

Today, however, when even Býleistr has been granted audience into the meetings as well, Loki leaves his room just as he knows Tony will be returning to his and he enters without even knocking or revealing his presence at all. Tony straightens with a start, a blanket wrapped around himself and his hands at the wound on his chest where he had probably been prodding at it as he usually does - despite Loki telling him constantly to leave it be.

There’s a moment of silence, where they both look at each other. Tony’s skin is wet, his hair mussed, his wings damp and low on his back. Loki cannot stop staring at him, looking over every bit of his body while he stands there, and he almost begins to hate himself for doing so.

He’s not his to look at. His biology may have turned him that way but he can control his emotions, he’s -

“Um. Something wrong?” Tony asks him warily, reaching behind him for his clothes and slowly sliding them on in Loki’s view, raising an eyebrow, “Loki?”

“No.” Loki answers curtly, his own thoughts irritating him beyond what they should be and he reaches behind him as well, shutting the door after him to lean against it. Now that he’s here he’s not exactly sure what to say. “Simply wondering just what is such a secret, is all.”

Tony looks at him, narrows his eyes and then laughs softly - as though Loki’s words are something so entirely amusing that he cannot even believe that they’d been said.

“Secrets, huh.” Tony echoes, a funny sort of smile on his face, “Hm. _Wonder_ where I’ve heard _that_ before.”

What? Loki pauses, looking at him. That wasn’t what he’d expected him to say. “I’m sorry?”

“Look, Loki, I’m tired. Could you just get out?”

“No.”

Tony sighs, glaring at him, but clearly realises that without an explanation he’ll not get Loki to move at all, “Fine. I just - I don’t appreciate not being told things that I think I should know about. That’s all.” He shrugs nonchalantly, not even looking at him now and instead fiddling with the scabbard of his new sword, taking it out and sliding it back in with a sigh.

Not being told? Told what? Has something happened? If so, Loki’s just as unaware of it as he is, he’s not even been -

Tony suddenly rounds on him and Loki blinks, watching as he drops the scabbard onto the bed, ignoring it when it bounces off anyway after the fall, “Why did you sleep with me?”

Loki stares, closing his mouth and immediately forgetting what it is he was about to say, “What?”

Tony takes another step back, shrugging, “It’s not really that hard a question to understand. The first time you slept with me, why’d you do it? I’ve been wondering, before, after what you said to me a few days ago so if this is all over then … tell me.” Loki raises an eyebrow at him, opening his mouth to answer but clearly Tony isn’t finished yet, “Did you feel sorry for me? Because of what had happened with Stane and everything? Because I was injured?”

A little. Loki looks down. Only a little. His mouth runs on it’s own accord, however, a lie slipping out just as easily as anything and suddenly all he can think of is his father. His birth father. Had he been a liar as well, just as Loki is?

“Of course I pitied you, we barely _knew_ each other, why else would I?” That’s better, he thinks, if Tony assumes that. He doesn’t know why, not really, and maybe when his heart finally stops rushing blood through his ears, he’ll be able to realise the answer himself afterward.

“I - Okay.” Tony nods again, to himself this time, “I didn’t - No. You’re right.” He lowers his voice, “Why else would you.” He swallows, looking down at himself before jerking his head back around to suddenly glare over at Loki, “So, come to think of it then, did you feel sorry for me the _second_ time too?” Loki rolls his tongue over his teeth, hating the contradictory of emotion within him about this, “When I was - when I was crying in here, like an idiot, just because of your Mother saying _no_ about me saving my own kingdom?”

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” Loki replies to that, dully.

Tony stares at him, his eyes darting between Loki’s. His wings twitch but cannot rise due to their sodden state. “So, Helblindi … ” He says softly, and Loki frowns immediately at the sound of his brother’s name, “What he said to me was right, then?”

Loki steps forward, “What Helblindi sa - ?”

“I am only here because you pity me.” Tony stops, biting his lip, before suddenly turning away in a jerk of anger, “He told me everything." Loki freezes, listening. Everything? Everything as in … what? What does he know, or what has he lied about? “He overheard you and your Mother. About - about the Jotun blood thing and what happens to you when you ‘ _lay with_ ’ someone who’s not. He told me every word.”

Loki’s blood is suddenly, horribly ice cold in every area of his body and the heaviness in him has completely fallen through until he can’t even breathe properly. Damn Helblindi. _Damn_ him -

“And you’ve just proved him right too.” Tony’s smiling again, that same funny smile, “That you do regret it all.” Loki lowers his eyes. This is all wrong and yet he can’t even bring himself to correct it. “You didn’t know what it could do to you, when you did it. You just slept with me on a whim and now you know what a - what a _big_ mistake it was, you’ve regretted it. Haven’t you. That’s why you’ve been so curt about it all, and everything, I was - wondering.” He looks away, “It’s okay though. I get it. You didn’t mean to fall so deep, it was just a pity sort of _thing_ that got way too serious for you. It’s fine.”

“Tony - ”

“I need to sleep now, Loki.” He looks at him. “Alone.”

Clenching his jaw Loki tries to meet his eyes, tries to open his mouth to _explain_ , but Tony refuses to even look up at him now and only continues to fiddle around with his scabbard once again.

Without a word, Loki turns on his heel and walks out the room as slowly as he can - hoping, however slightly, that Tony will stop him.

He doesn’t.

.

~

.

Helblindi is at the training grounds, armor over his body and a sword in his hand, but neither does much to help him at all when Loki’s hands fist in the lapels of the shirt beneath his mail and uses them to slam him into the nearest wall.

His brother gapes at him, struggling immediately, “Training’s _over_ , you pix - !”

“ _Insult_ me like that again and your sword will be rammed up the nearest office of your body I can reach!” Loki spits, shaking him and pressing him there hard enough to make him hiss out in pain, “What did you say to him?”

Helblindi looks at him, innocently, “Say to who?”

Loki growls, pressing into him, his fingers finding their way around Helblindi’s throat now, holding him there enough to make him choke but not enough to suffocate, “Tell me!”

“I told him nothing,” Helblindi spits back, pushing him away and stroking a hand over his throat, “Simply what you should have told him yourself.”

“I _would_ have,” Loki snarls, “I - But _you_ , and your _interfering_ , you’ve - !”

“I’ve what? Spoiled it all?” Helblindi scoffs, “As always Loki, you never see the bigger picture. We are in the middle of two _Wars_ and you’ve spent your days fraternizing with someone that could very well be our enemy!”

Loki groans, rolling his eyes skyward, “Will you _ever_ try to open your mind a little and see people as they are? And _not_ as we’ve been taught to believe!”

“‘Open my mind’? You sound like a mortal yourself now!” Helblindi straightens his armor, sorting the shirt out as he speaks with a glare in Loki’s direction, “But I suppose it’s to be expected you believe him over me. Of _course_ your brother is the enemy simply because you slept with the mortal and automatically excused everything.”

“I excuse _nothing_ \- !”

Helblindi reaches into his bag behind him and tosses down a knife. The same knife that Laufey had shown them all that day. The Loki had decided to leave and to regain the casket. The runes have been dirtied since then and it’s not as beautiful but it still glistens in the sunlight.

“Your mortal,” Helblindi says, slowly, “Mentioned that this was _his_ when I used it before him. A gift, apparently, from his Mother.”

What?

Loki looks down at it, his fisted hands unconsciously uncurling at his sides in surprise. He immediately wants to come to defend Tony but - is that his biology speaking or his mind?

“The casket was taken by someone Midgardian, you know this,” Helblindi continues, glaring, “And they would have had to have been light enough to crawl through our tunnels. Small enough to run past unseen and clever enough to devise a way to take it with no one noticing it’s disappearance.” Helblindi gives him a dark look, “Sound familiar in any way to you?”

“His Mother is their captive.”

“Is she? Sounds terribly convenient, doesn’t it.” No. Not if he - “And if they _are_ working for Stane, then she is probably sitting somewhere in a palace herself, relaxing and waiting for her son to bring her the result that she wants.”

“I was there.” Loki objects, “I _saw_ \- ”

“You know as well as I do how elaborate a scheme can get when it’s in the making! You’ve made plenty yourself to understand that!”

Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, fuming and yet, some part of him wonders if he’s right. The knife is Tony’s. Stane mentioned nothing about instigating him in the casket theft and almost _everything_ that has happened between them has severely distracted Loki from everything. This war now, the battle Tony that has had them plan can very well simply be another part to Stane’s plan of catching them all unaware.

They could know about it. Could be planning a trap, a massacre, a victory. He -

“No. You’re wrong. This is simply you lying to me, in turn now, to excuse what you did to him.”

Helblindi lowers his eyes, shaking his head as though disappointed in him, “Are you really going to risk us going into battle like this on a whim that you think your mortal is who he says he is?”

Tony’s - “I - ”

Helblindi lifts his bag, slings it over his shoulder to leave, just as rain begins to splash over the grounds. Faeries run in every direction, trying not to get their wings wet and ducking into shelter as quickly as they can. Loki watches them instead of looking at his brother.

“I thought you were for the people, Loki.” Is Helblindi’s last words before he walks across the grounds toward the palace walls. Not looking back.

Loki stands there in the increasingly emptying grounds, just as thunder begins to crack above him in two harsh sounds of fury over the rain, and he looks up at Tony’s window when a flash of lightning decides to light the clouds as well - catching sight of him standing there, looking out at the sky with his head on his arms. He glances down once, notices Loki watching him from the distance and stands, turning away and walking back inside.

Curtains shut.

Loki lowers his head, his hair dripping, sliding water down his face. At another thunder crack he walks inside nearest doors and makes his way up to his own chambers past the kitchens.

.

~

.

“I’m sorry.” Laufey murmurs, rubbing a cloth over Loki’s wet hair, clearly physically restraining herself from holding him as a child.

“Helblindi may not be right in this.” Loki tells her, bitterly, “I never know what to think with him. He’s learnt much of his lying from me, and I - I taught him too well.”

She tuts, looking to Býleistr for another cloth and he hands it to her. The youngest of them all had been the one that had found Loki in the first place, sitting on the roof outside of his chamber’s window in the rain, looking out over the kingdom and shivering subconsciously from it all.

“And if he is right?” She asks him softly and he merely shrugs, looking away, “Loki. You must ask. You must find out. Wallowing helps no one.”

“I am not wallowing!” He shouts, pushing the cloth from his face and scowling down at his lap, “... and I cannot ask. He won’t speak to me.”

Býleistr frowns at that, “Why not? You two were - ”

“Helblindi told him.” Loki interrupts, looking at Laufey, “What you’d told me when we’d first returned from Asgard, he told Tony. And he told him he is only here because I pity him.”

Laufey tilts her head, pursing her lips and probably inwardly reprimanding her middle child, “And did you - ?”

“I told him I did.”

Býleistr sits beside Loki, curling his dry wings around his brother as a sort of blanket and shuddering himself when the water seeps out over him in turn.

“And why would you do that?” Laufey asks, raising an eyebrow, “When we all three here know the truth.”

“I thought it would be easier. If he does not feel that way, then I’m more than likely to never find out.” Laufey shuts her eyes with a sigh, either calling for patience or just not wanting to look at Loki’s miserable face right now, “Well what else could I do? You should have told me all this from the beginning!”

She hums, rubbing the cloth back over Loki’s sodden hair and ignoring how he tries to shove her hands off, “What I told you then, Loki, I told you to ensure that you be careful. Not to cause you to upset both yourself and your mortal.” She pauses, looking to Býleistr and gesturing he check the door for any eavesdroppers - particularly a specific young faerie. “Which is _why_ I am less than inclined to believe Helblindi over this, for as good as the mortal may seem at putting up a front of emotion, no one faerie can look _that_ upset and pretend to be so.”

Loki looks at her. “He’s upset?” Her nod is slow, condescending, and yes, perhaps he is still young but it still irks him. “Hm.”

Býleistr leans forward, “Should he talk with him?”

“He should apologise and use his words carefully to discover whether or not Helblindi’s theory may be correct.” Laufey adds, looking into Loki’s eyes and cupping his face to turn it toward hers fully, “Your brother has been bitter of late, Loki, do not take his words to heart if they are all lies.”

He grunts, pulling back and Býleistr shifts as well, “Is it all simply over the battle, mother? I know that he believes we are wasting time training here and that we should attack _now_ instead of negotiate, but why do this?”

“He may be telling the truth, Býleistr.” Laufey reminds him and at the look she receives she laughs. “‘Blindi is not always so deceptive. After all, Loki lies through his teeth over everything and yet you always seem to trust him.”

“Loki is not vindictive.” Býleistr interjects and both Loki and Laufey scoff as one, looking at him in disbelief before -

Wait.

 _Wait_.

“What did you say?” Loki asks him suddenly, rounding on him; making Býleistr’s wings curl back in surprise, “What did you just say?”

Býleistr looks at Laufey, lost. “Say - about what?”

Laufey frowns, looking between them, “Loki? What is it?”

He doesn’t look at her, his mind reeling, information given to him in so short a time suddenly piling up over each other and -

Helblindi has been saying to them that they should be attacking _now_. Helblindi has said, to Loki before, that the battle is a _risk_ that should not be taken on a ‘whim’. Helblindi wants Loki to think Tony is the enemy. He wants them to be separate, wants Tony to hate Loki and for Loki to not go and see him. Helblindi -

_Helblindi._

He stands, “Nothing.” He runs a hand down his face, “I’ll - it’s Nothing.” He gestures to the door, “I should - I need to apologize.”

Laufey looks at him dubiously, rising just as he opens the door to leave himself though she neither stops him nor calls him back. Loki glances at Býleistr once, meaningfully, but he’s gone before he can see if the look is understood or not.

He runs down the corridor, avoiding anywhere that he thinks his other brother may be and hoping that it’s not too late to apologize to Tony and explain that all of it was a lie. Both what he himself had said and what Helblindi had said as well.

He pushes past a servant standing just outside of Tony’s chambers and barges his way inside, slamming the door shut, opening his mouth and -

Deflating.

The room is empty. Loki sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at the scabbard lying just at his feet. Sometimes, he’s noticed, Tony likes to take long flights over the grounds simply because he enjoys the peace of it all. This must be one of those times.

He sits there, waiting and kicks at the scabbard with a foot, gently, before glancing out at the window. Which is when he realises two things.

Tony takes his sword with him everywhere now.

It’s still raining outside.

He pushes off of the bed, grabbing the sword himself and tying it around his own waist, placing both hands on the window sill in order to look down over it to see where Tony would have gone. Which is when he sees both the fingernail marks clawed into the wood and the burn of rope against the stone.

His face darkens as he looks out over the grounds toward the grass.

_Helblindi._

.

****

.

Tony kicks out when the two soldiers grab him by the waist and, quite literally, toss him into the back of one of their carts, “Watch the goods, you - !” He snaps out, wincing, before shuffling backward warily when he’s approached by both men again.

Stane leans to the side, watching with a raised eyebrow while Helblindi doesn’t even take his eyes off of the swords that they all carry with them. In a similar cart, to the left, Maria Stark glares hatefully at him as he stands there and he looks away, turning to Stane.

“Our deal.” He demands. He’s met with an amused smile that immediately irks him, “I gave you what you asked for, so now give me what I’m due in return.”

“And what _do_ you want?” Stane drawls lazily.

There’s a grunt from one of the soldiers as they try to tie Tony down to the floor of the cart and he kicks them, and then a cry when the strike is returned.

“You to leave. To never try to take my kingdom and to leave the people there out of your plans. Keep Midgard, try to overturn Asgard even, but you leave my people alone.”

One of the soldiers chuckles to himself, tying rope around Tony’s neck despite his violent struggles.

“Well,” Stane looks over at Tony himself now, with a smile, “That sounds reasonable enough, don’t you think?”

The dark look that he receives then only seems to make him laugh.

“Well?” Helblindi asks, clearly getting nervous now, “Our _deal_.”

“Helblindi!” Tony voice cracks as he tries to lunge forward, knocking the soldier beside him down with his left foot, but rope keeps him back before he can even stand and he gags at the pressure around his throat, “Ah - _don’t_! He’s not going to leave you alone, there’s a reason he - !”

Cloth is shoved into his mouth and he’s kicked further back into the cart, hitting the wall hard and slumping against it with a shout of pain.

Stane sighs, resigned, and looks down at Helblindi as though he’s years younger than he is, “I give you my word, Jotun, that l will leave your kingdom alone.” Helblindi nods, taking a step back, glancing once at Tony before straightening.

“Good. Then - then this is all concluded.” He staggers back a step nervously, clearing his throat and turning to leave when -

“Oh, not just yet.” He freezes, looking back over his shoulder, “I want to know about your brother as well. The elder one. He seemed to be a little … protective over Tony here, how can you ensure that we don’t get any trouble from him as well?”

Three soldiers step behind Helblindi. He tenses, his eyes finding Tony’s and, instead of the malicious hatred that he expects to see, he finds worry instead. And it’s then that he realises what a mistake he’s actually made.

“I - my brother is not like that.”

The men unsheathe their swords. Stane steps forward. “You have got to give me more than _that_. How do _we_ know that he’s not?”

Helblindi’s breath hitches and he fumbles for his own sword, his hands clumsy in his fear, his cold, aloof attitude suddenly gone, but before anything can get entirely too messy for them all, said brother announces himself from behind them all darkly, “You don’t.”

Loki steps out, slowly, from between two twin blades; panting, out of breath from running, but angry and armed. There’s a snarl on his lips when his gaze fixes on Stane - the man that started this all. Loki points his sword toward Tony, “Release him.”

Tony rolls his eyes and immediately Loki knows that he’s made a mistake. That he’s left his chest bear. The training has paid off for one of them then, at least. The arrow that flies through the air however, doesn’t make him feel any better about that, and he flinches just before it’s deflected by Helblindi’s sword in the next second. He doesn’t waste time in giving his brother a surprised look and instead reaches into his pocket for the balls that he’d taken from Tony’s room and flinging them at the soldier that had shot at him.

It explodes in a burst of fire and they all duck, staring at him.

“ _Release_ him.” He repeats, pointing his sword back toward Stane now. He holds another ball in his hand, his other building in magic around the sword’s hilt; giving them all a reminder of just what he can do.

Stane looks at him, frowning but still, so very amused, “Why? Your brother and I made a deal. I leave your kingdom alone if you give me the Stark boy. And he did.”

“And _I_ am retracting that deal, so release him, or so help me I _will_ kill you.”

Stane’s lips twitch upward, “Will you.” There’s a movement in the corner of his eye and Loki turns too late to pull his brother out of the way before he’s grabbed and held away from him; a knife pressed against his thin, blue throat. “Or will I kill your brother first?”

Helblindi struggles, his eyes wide and he looks at Loki in a way he never has before in all the years he’s known him. Apologetically. Tony crawls to the edge of the cart as carefully as he can and stares at Loki, breathing heavily.

What does he do? What would father do? Does he even know anymore? Why should he follow his father’s knowledge anyway, Fárbauti had _died_ in the War, why should that be Loki’s fate as well, he -

He - He’d died in the _War_. In War, but _not_ in battle. In Combat.

He looks at Stane.

Leader to Leader.

Loki swallows, finding Tony again. The mortal has both hands fisted, lifted, his eyes showing and telling Loki that with enough distraction he can knock the soldier before him unconscious - can escape himself. He nods his answer to the look he gets, showing that he’s understood.

Right. Distraction then.

“Very well.” Loki says lightly, “You may kill him.” Helblindi jerks, his chest heaving. “ _If_ I cannot kill you first.” Stane looks at him, his eyes lowered as though Loki cannot even keep his attention for long enough. As though this is all somehow something _boring_ for him. Loki straightens, biting down on the inside of his cheeks and clearing his throat. “Obadiah Stane. I challenge you to mortal combat before your men, my lover and my brother.” Tony snaps his head up, his eyes wide in a shock that only seems to make Loki think back to their last conversation in his room. Clearly, he’d been expecting a different distraction, than this but, well.

What else is there?

“No weapon beside the sword.” He then elaborates, ignoring Helblindi’s sudden cry of: “Loki _no_!” and tossing the balls that he has to one side. “No help. No rule-breaking. And no _flight_.”

Stane look at Loki’s sword, looks at the balls in his hands as they’re discarded to the side as well. His wings cannot be used anyhow, not in this rain, but his face still darkens at that particular rule.

“Do you accept, or not?” Loki asks him, clenching his fists and raising his sword higher in threat, “Or,” He adds, slowly, “Must this get messy?”

Stane looks at two of his men, a bitter, cruel smile curling behind his beard and the men laugh just as Stane unsheathes his own sword, holding it high and ready, “I’d hope, if I were you, that you’re as good at fighting as you are at hiding.” It’s a jab, a reminder of the time that they’d been caught in Midgard - in Tony’s room - and Stane had almost killed them both. Had almost succeeded with Tony, had Loki not remembered the spell when he had.

The jab, most likely there to try and throw Loki off, only incites his anger all the more and in the corner of his eye he sees Helblindi landing hard on his side when he’s pushed to the ground to sit and watch his brother fight a man twice his age and likely a lot more experienced than he. The rain gradually begins to cease, the sun peaking out past the leaves of the tree above them and covering both the two opponents in a circle of light; facing each other to the death.

Loki swallows, watching as all the men around take ten or more steps back. Not all of them are here, only Stane’s most loyal likely, but the prisoners have been brought for this as well - or, perhaps, have simply been left here and guarded like this anyway.

Stane and Loki are surrounded and they stand before each other, their swords just a few feet away from touching and their audience tense or even, for some, amused.

Tony catches Loki’s eye over Stane’s shoulder, the gag now out where he must have tugged at it with his bound fingers, and he mouths something slowly, desperately, just before a soldier gives the word for the fight.

Loki looks away quickly, backpedalling immediately when Stane suddenly advances on him at such a speed, he almost doesn’t move in time. He spins, blocking the blow and falling to the ground at the force of his own. One that misses.

Laughter fills the air and he spits out mud. This is a joke to them, he realises, as he stands slowly, dirt over his front and his hands shaking from the cold. He’s young compared to Stane, not much of an opponent. They don’t even think he’ll make it through a minute, likely.

Gritting his teeth, he turns back toward Stane, slashing at the grin that he sees there and relishing in the look of shock that it gains him. Stane backs away, swiping his sword just as Loki pushes himself off of a nearby rock, hard enough to give his next, dealing blow a little more momentum. They both hit and Loki grunts, a hand coming to clutch at the wound at his side and when he turns, he catches sight of the soldier that had been standing in front of the cart before, lying unconscious on the ground. Tony’s not in the cart now either and it’s then that Loki focuses on the words that he’d mouthed at him. Words that he’d been so sure he’d not hear at all, after all of this, and yet now they’ve actually been said -

_I love you._

Stane’s temper comes into play now. It must have snapped at some point when one of Loki’s blows had actually _hit_ , and he limps when fighting - lashing out much harder and trying to strike him down with every movement and twist of his body.

Loki ducks, weaves and slides out of the way while dealing his own blows. He slips over the mud when Stane’s wings begin to dry and one of them knocks him flat, hard, not even letting him roll out of the way before Stane’s boot comes crushing down onto his left wrist. He screams, once, biting his lips hard to muffle the rest and ignoring the objection that his brother starts at the use of wings.

“He cannot do that!”

He’s silenced and Loki swallows back his pain, holding that hand a lot more gingerly now and gritting his teeth to try and help him focus on what to try next. Stane’s fast though, faster than Loki had thought he would be, but all he needs to do is give Tony some time. Time enough for him to release all of those who are loyal to _him_ and his mother. Time enough for them to have more of a chance against all of this.

“He said no flight.” Stane drawls at Helblindi, “He never said I couldn’t use my wings another way.” And then he gestures and a soldier grips Helblindi tighter, holding his jaw shut to stop any more protests and at that, Loki drops the sword at his feet.

Stane looks at him, surprised, opening his mouth to comment in some dry, smug manner but Loki smiles before he can, “I never said none of us could use magic, either.” And then Stane’s torso is ablaze in a fire that has him scream from the pain it causes. Loki clenches both fists, his magic building and intensifying and since their last meeting, he has certainly learnt a few more spells himself.

He didn’t spend all that time in his room doing nothing.

Stane growls, his bald head tinged a light pink when he finally manages to douse the flame and Loki raises his hands to deliver the same spell but a set of sharp wings brings him down to his knees. The soldier behind him falls with a grunt when Helblindi’s leg shoots out, stopping him from cheating again, and Loki sends a blast of magic over every one of them at the sound of his brother screaming when they twist his wrist back.

“Enough!” Stane shouts, taking flight despite everything, with his wings now dry enough to. “The fight’s between me and the Jotun. I can handle a teenager, you stay back.”

Loki looks up at him, knowing full well that he’s at a disadvantage from being without wings and he looks around him for something that he can use but then - wait.

If _he’s_ without wings, then why not … ?

He pulls enough of his magic inside him, the energy of all that’s around him sucking into his hands until he’s enough power to blast two twin holes through the thin veil of Stane’s wings. And it’s at that fall, the fall of their leader, that leads the soldiers around them to lunge forward as one.

“Get him!”

Loki ducks away from a blow that could probably have killed him, watching as every one of the soldiers join the fight against just _one_ man. His magic builds within him, burning through his skin and erupting out in blazes of green and gold. His skin itches with a fire that he’s never truly experienced and he suddenly really wants to glance down, to see what’s happening to him, but now’s not the time.

But _everything_ is magic now, his one true weapon, the one thing that has been looked down on by so many and is now saving his life.

Helblindi is released and he shoves past the Midgardian that had been holding him, taking the sword from him quickly and slicing through his chest, hard.

“Kill them!” Stane rasps from where he’s bent over now, his wings smouldering and the intensity of the pain of it is written all over his face. “Kill them both!”

Helblindi takes his place beside Loki, holding his sword up. Loki presses his back against his, his heart pounding, skin flushing and adrenaline racing through his veins -

And then he sees it. His arm, the one that’s actually in his view, the one holding out his sword, is _glowing_. The markings that are etched into his skin, the symbols of a Jotun faerie, have taken on a light, blue glow. It’s strong enough to be seen, bright enough, even, to light up the dark if need be. He finds himself staring, almost in awe, but he snaps out of it immediately. There’s no time to -

“I’m sorry.” Helblindi immediately apologizes next to him, and Loki turns, glancing over his shoulder at him, “I only ever wanted to - I - ”

“I know.”

Stane straightens, holding his sword out and limping, wincing with every step and shoving the helping grip given to him, from one of his men, off. He approaches Loki slowly, menacingly, his eyes narrowed and his face a bright red now. But for a moment, he staggers to an uncertain halt when his gaze finds the glow over Loki’s skin, the implemented burn of magic that’s now filling the swirls of symbols over his arms, torso, neck and back. Perhaps even his head as well.

But then he raises his sword again, aiming for Loki’s neck, and the glow is ignored. By both of them. Loki stares at him, a spell ready, the words at his lips, but if he attacks now, then Helblindi will die as punishment. And if he doesn’t -

“ _Hey Stane_!” They all snap their heads up to look as one. Tony flies just above their heads, three each of his special little balls in both hands. He grins. “Watch your step.”

Squinting, Stane looks down and freezes when he sees the ball tucked just under his left foot. He doesn’t move, can’t move, but still there’s a light tap somewhere within it and then he’s thrown backward at the blast that it causes. Loki shields his face from the fire, his eyes alight when he then hears rather than sees the cries of war that next come from the left of the grass. Midgardian, Jotun and Asgardian alike run together, their axes, swords and bows held up and ready to force Stane’s men to surrender.

Tony lands beside Loki, looking at him with a smile. “Sorry I took so long.” And if it were possible, Loki’s chest might have lifted him to the _skies_ itself, he’s never felt lighter.

With a shared smile, the both of them run into the fight together. The glow over Loki’s arms brightens as he continues to fight and the whirl of blue surrounds him when he twists to keep the men back.

In the middle of it all, Tony bends, once, to grab at the sword that Helblindi had left behind before, using it to slice through the wings of a soldier that had been aiming for the younger prince himself. Helblindi stares, his mouth open and Tony nods with raised eyebrows and turns to assist his own men.

Stane’s forces don’t put up much of a fight, especially not when they finally see the true ruler of their kingdom, Queen Maria, holding a sword against Stane’s chest as he lies against the caved-in hole made by his own body.

Many surrender but those that do choose to fight are either taken prisoner by Midgard’s Captain of the Guard, James Rhodes, or killed in the brief battle that takes place. Thor lands beside Maria and when she raises an eyebrow at him, he slowly holds up the rope in his hands and ties Stane up after her nod of permission.

“Thor.” Loki murmurs softly, running to meet Tony in the middle of the wreckage. “But - Odin said he’d not give us any men.”

“Yeah and the bastard stuck by that.” Tony says, nodding with a scowl, “But Thor answered me at least. He brought anyone that volunteered.” Loki looks over the masses and masses of Asgardian soldiers that are now crowding together around their prisoners. Tony catches his look. “Guess you’re not all enemies in each other’s eyes, huh.”

No. Perhaps not.

“Anthony.” Thor walks toward them, nodding in greeting to Loki and looking at the wound on his side and the bruises over his broken wrist with more concern that he’d ever thought he’d see on a ‘savages’ face, “We … will take our leave now.”

“Oh, okay, uh - ”

“Thank you, Prince Thor.” Loki says, formally, and beside him Helblindi echoes the sentiment; making him smile.

Thor looks over him, lowering his eyes, “It was my honor, Prince Loki. I am as tired of our war as you perhaps are also.” He places his hands just above the waistband of his trousers, “I even hope that another day, we may even fight alongside each other in battle instead of against.”

“That day is here, Thor.” Loki replies with a smile, “And when you are King, war will most certainly not be an issue for either of us again.” He looks at Tony when he says this as well. The three Kings, one day. “Not for a long time.”

Thor’s smile takes on an almost cheeky glint, “Unless the two of you have some sort of intimate fight between you, of course.”

Tony snorts, looking down and running a hand through his hair. Thor hits both their backs with his hands in a farewell, laughing at their winces and joining his own brothers-in-arms in their retreat. They both watch him go and Tony waves at him with a grin before they disappear into the grass. Captain Rhodes also begins to lead the prisoners, along with the loyal soldiers of Queen Maria’s men, back toward their kingdom. Maria commands that Stane is thrown onto the back of a cart and led back as well, to be placed into the dungeons until she decides on what to do with him.

Tony nods when she glances in his direction, gesturing to him that he follow, and he looks at Loki, “So.” He starts.

“So.” Loki repeats, smiling at him, “You love me.”

“And _so_ do you.” Tony replies, his smile softening until his lips cover his teeth now. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“I shouldn’t have just assumed that everything you did for me was just out of pity.”

“I should never have lied to you, about it all.”

Tony laughs, looking to one side, “Yeah. You win that one.” He then looks over Loki’s body, his eyes scanning over the glowing markings that are now gradually fading over his skin. “Did you know you’re glowing?”

“I’ve noticed, yes.”

“Huh.” Tony opens his mouth to comment, to possibly offer to study the glow, to come up with some sort of an explanation, but he suddenly seems to think better of what he’s going to say and sighs instead. “Oh and by the way? I am _never_ believing a word that your brother says. Ever.”

Loki smirks, “Does that mean that you will still be around to see my brother? Or, more specifically, me?”

Maria is waiting, Loki notices, just off to the side. Tony looks over his shoulder at her as well, gesturing something. When he looks back, he’s grinning again, “I guess we’ll see.” He answers, lightly, before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to Loki’s lips. Maria’s eyebrows twitch upward but all she does it order Captain Rhodes to force a gag into Stane’s mouth. “I mean, I’ve still got the negotiations to take care of right?”

He then flutters up, flapping his wings once to turn before he can fly over toward his mother, “Fix yourself up! You look half dead.” He says over his shoulder and Loki laughs, watching him walk away with the woman that he’d tried his hardest to save.

It feels less like a goodbye than their conversation before had, but now at least, he knows he’ll see him again.

He will.

.

~

.

Midgard is restored. It takes a few months, of course, but the Asgardians offer their assistance and Helblindi brings both his younger brother and a band of men to offer any kind of help in returning it to it’s former glory.

The Jotun warriors that had joined the fight inform his Mother, along with Helblindi, about how powerful Loki’s magic actually is. He’d apparently taken down more men than any of them had done alone and he’d not even had a sword at the time. Laufey takes some convincing but, after all of this, Loki is given so much more than just a mere title to his name. He even takes a part in the meetings with Odin and is called whenever something occurs.

He joins his brothers in patrol, trains his magic in public and builds up an image with the people that is so different from how they used to think of him that, sometimes, he has to stop and wonder if perhaps he’s dreaming about this all.

Due to his promise over the negotiations, Tony and his mother agree to a deal made between the Jotun, Asgardian and Midgardian royals. For around 5 months a year, Tony is to live in Jotenheimr and to attend every meeting assigned over the negotiations. And, contradicting everything that Loki had thought before, Tony proposes the idea himself. His mother hides a smile behind her hand when he puts it forward and Loki wonders just how much he’s told her of him.

She never approaches him however, something that he’s seen her to try to do only to be pulled back by her son and spoken to. She laughs a lot, just like Tony. Worth saving then, he supposes, watching the two together.

Laufey doesn’t blink an eye when Tony also announces that he’ll stay in Loki’s room during these months and this time it’s the Asgardians present that hide a smile. She agrees to all, as does Thor in Odin’s absence and the decision is made. They part ways from the Jotun’s halls as though they will all meet again like this at a later date. And perhaps they will. They work well, together, it seems. The three kingdoms in alliance.

The glow on Loki’s skin has been pressed to the side of issues so far and Loki only ever wonders over it _sometimes_. He wants to ask his Mother about it but his magic has always been a topic that she has been rather dubious about and she doesn’t really know a lot of information about it herself anyway. So he leaves it. Naturally.

The first month Tony arrives in Jotenheimr, he’s welcomed so much more than he had been the first time. Some even bow to him. He smiles at the women when they compliment him and laughs at the look on Loki’s face when he flirts. Laufey takes him first to her chambers to talk and Helblindi awaits outside to take Tony through to the chambers that he “supposedly” will stay in whilst here; even though he had even announced to them all that he’ll stay with Loki.

Loki himself doesn’t miss the murmured conversation between the two, nor the way Helblindi looks so entirely relieved to have been forgiven for what he had done. He leaves when he notices Loki waiting, and then he and Tony are alone.

Opening the door, Loki holds it there for Tony to walk inside first, and he turns once it’s shut, his automatic greeting already spilling out, “How have you be - ” He starts to ask but before he can even end the sentence, Tony’s lips are suddenly pressed to his and they’re kissing with so much more ferocity than they ever have done before.

“You were right before,” Tony gasps, pulling away and leading Loki to sit on the bed, “When you said we barely knew each other.”

Loki groans, “What I said then was only to - ”

Tony puts two fingers over his lips, silencing him, “Relax, I know. Mostly I guessed but your mom helped some too. I _know_.” Loki blinks slowly at him, jerking his head back to let Tony’s fingers slip off, “But you were right. We didn’t know each other that well when you first slept with me.”

“Didn’t.” Loki echoes, looking at him.

“For you, it’s forever. Because of the - the blood thing. But I don’t want you to think that I’m only here because of that. Because I feel like I _should_ be here because you’ll basically be torn apart if I ever go.” He doesn’t think that. And how much has Laufey told him exactly? “I’m here because I want to be. I felt something more for you, in a couple of weeks, than I ever did for anyone else. I don’t know if I can promise you forever, but I can promise now. I will promise now.” He smiles. “And, like you, I intend on keeping my promises.”

Loki leans back, a soft, amused smirk curling over his lips, “Do you feel better saying all of that?”

“Phew, yeah.” Tony flops down beside him, grinning, “Had to let it off my chest before we had another miscommunication bust.”

Loki lies beside him, stretching when Tony’s fingers find the hem of his shirt and lift. He sits with him, letting him peel it off of him and throw it down over the floor before laying over his bare chest.

“You’re not glowing anymore.”

“No. I - believe it may have something to do with my magic. I’m not quite sure myself yet.” Tony looks up at him from where he’s lying.

“Have you ever used that much magic before?”

“No.”

“Then there you are.” He traces a finger over the markings trailing from Loki’s collarbone down to his shoulder, “Extreme usage of magic leads to your marks glowing.”

Loki shifts under him, trying not to dislodge him too much and curling a hand in Tony’s hair as they lie there. “Is your mother well?”

Tony hums. “Yeah, she’s fine. Her wing’s healing now and it’s going to scar but she can at least still use it. She likes you as well, by the way. Not sure how she got her judgement seeing as she’s never really _met_ you but - she likes you.”

“Hm.”

“Hows yours?”

“Resigned as usual. I think, somewhere inside her, she still hopes that I’ll find a Jotun woman to be with instead.”

Tony snorted softly, “Tell her: ‘Tough. You’re mine’.” Loki chuckles against him and Tony’s fingers halt in their tracing, “She’s been trying to help me settle here anyway, actually, so maybe she doesn’t. You never know.”

“Maybe.” Loki agrees, twitching when Tony’s fingers trace over a particular mark that sends goosebumps riding out over his skin.

“Hey,” He suddenly whispers, his eyes alight, and he sits up a little straighter, hovering over Loki with one hand supporting his weight by Loki’s chest, “Have you always had these?”

Loki glances down at the marks he’s touching. They’re darker than the rest, always have been, and they curl around past his stomach all around to finish at the small of his back. The shape and pattern is rather nice to look at, he’ll admit, but other than that -

“Yes.” He grunts eventually, “Why?”

“Do you remember my knife?” He asks, and Loki expects to feel a sense of dread at the reminder of Helblindi’s lies but all he feels now is curiosity. He nods. “The runes of it are from our old language. They’re words but - I’m not as good at translating them as my mom is.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, “Your point?”

“My _point_ ,” Tony hits him on the chest, lightly, and Loki huffs out a laugh, “Is that your markings remind me of the runes that we learnt of. Back when I was only a child.” He smiles at Loki, tilting his head, “ _Wings_.”

Loki looks at him.

“See,” Tony breathes, his fingers dancing over the marks as he slides his gaze over them, following the lines and tracing the patterns until it feels as though he truly _is_ drawing on wings over Loki’s skin. “You do have wings.” He smiles. “Not so different after all.”

Loki presses his lips together, his laugh merging into something he’d rather keep hidden, and when Tony kisses him he feels the bind within him dilate. The connection they had created when they had first lain together strengthens in that one moment, and in that one moment, Loki can fly. However metaphorically.

He has wings.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Lynn Willow [my artists] and her twin Skylar as well! XD
> 
> Wonderful people, thank you so much for all your help! :)


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